


Better Things

by aeonwrites



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: A lot of hurt/little comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempted Murder, Biting, Blood and Violence, Bromance between Ragnar and Floki, Canon? What Canon?, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, I have issues, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Illness, Minor Original Character(s), Murder, Organized Crime, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn, Teacher and Carpenter AU, The Author Regrets Everything, aftermath of abuse, definitely not projecting onto ragnar here, in the least sexy way possible, is that even a thing?, its more like a slow sizzle, no beta we die like men, nope - Freeform, with like...murderous intentions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 63
Words: 82,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeonwrites/pseuds/aeonwrites
Summary: Athelstan is an elementary school teacher, he knows the Lothbrok kids well. After the summer holidays they have changed dramatically. The whole family seems transformed, especially the handsome man that is their father,Athelstan is determined to get to the bottom of this, but he might get more than he can handle.(Tags may change as I figure this out.)(Nothing makes sense, everyone is OOC, no one is their canon age. I don't know.)
Relationships: Athelstan/Ragnar Lothbrok, Floki & Ragnar Lothbrok, Ragnar Lothbrok & Rollo (Vikings)
Comments: 180
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I had a burst of inspiration and wrote a chapter. I hope you enjoy. :)  
> Feel free to correct any mistakes, as english is not my first (nor second language) and feel free to post any opinions/criticisms/etc. in the comments :)  
> Please enjoy :)

Athelstan scanned the room full of children. They were giggling, chatting among themselves. The elementary school teacher was impressed how energetic these second graders could be at eight in the morning, especially the first day after summer vacation. He frowned when he caught sight of an empty seat. Ubbe, one of his favourite students, had not arrived yet, even though the lesson had just started. It worried Athelstan. Last year, he had come to know Ubbe as a very responsible student, especially for his young age. Ubbe’s parents had been very mindful of all their children’s punctuality. Athelstan was not quite sure how many children the Lothbrok family had exactly, but he was convinced that there were five of them. With a look at the clock he discarded the thought.

“Let’s begin, kids. Quiet down, please!”, he called out to them, and immediately all their eyes were on him. He smiled and leaned against the table. “Did you guys have a nice summer break?”, he asked. There were yells of excitement, some just nodded and others raised their excitedly, wanting to share their experiences. Athelstan laughed quietly.

“How lovely!”, he exclaimed. “How about, y’all write me a fun little story about your favourite event during break and then we will all share and talk about it?”, he suggested and was met with enthusiastic agreement. With his everlasting smile, he handed out paper and pen to the kids who had forgotten their own. Athelstan sat back down, staring at the empty seat, as his students got started on their essays. His gaze kept returning to Ubbe’s empty seat.

Then, suddenly, he was ripped out of his thoughts when someone knocked on the door. “Come in!”, Athelstan called, noting how his students’ heads turned curiously. The door was carefully opened, and Athelstan almost cried out in relief. Ubbe stood there, holding his father’s hand. The young teacher stood up and approached the pair.

“I missed you, Ubbe! Lovely to see you”, he greeted his student. His attention however was diverted by Ubbe’s father.

“I am so sorry that we’re late. I just..we had-”, the man stammered, not looking Athelstan in the eye. Athelstan cut him off. 

“No worries”, he smiled. “It happens to the best of us. Besides, it’s only the first day.” The man nodded, mumbling something under his breath that Athelstan did not hear. He knelt down, hugged his son and kissed his forehead gently. “I love you, okay? Try to have some fun. Rollo will pick you up later, okay?”, Ubbe’s father asked softly. The boy only nodded and gave his father a hug. Eventually the two parted and Ubbe shuffled over to his seat. His father mumbled a goodbye and another apology before he closed the door and Athelstan was alone again with his kids. 

The teacher walked over to Ubbe, kneeling down in front of him.

“Hey, bud. We’re writing essays about our favourite summer holiday experience”, Athelstan filled him in. “Can you do that for me?” The boy nodded and Athelstan patted him on the head gently, returning to his desk. 

He loved watching his kids being so focused. Well, they weren’t his kids but for the lesson they were, and he would treat them accordingly. Which is why he frowned when he saw Ubbe staring at his empty paper, a pen loosely in his hand. His greyish eyes blinked frequently, as if he was trying to adjust his eyes to the light, or get an especially unpleasant image out of his head. 

Athelstan stood up and walked to his desk again, a painful knot in his stomach. This was so unlike his usual self. Athelstan made a mental note to ask the other teachers about the Lothbrok kids’ behaviour. 

“Ubbe, why are you not writing?”, Athelstan asked gently. The boy shrugged, pulling his shaggy strawberry blonde hair in front of his eyes so that he would not have to look at his teacher. Athelstan sighed heavily. 

“Okay, Ubbe. I can tell you are not feeling well. If you want to talk to me about anything, I’ll be there for you, okay?”, he whispered, hoping the other kids would not hear. He saw the boy nod, and could hear the softest words of gratitude. Not really satisfied, he returned to his desk, faking enthusiasm as he clapped his hands. For the first time ever, he had to force his smile.

“Okay, who wants to share their story?”, he questioned the class. With exception of Ubbe, every student raised their hand, and Athelstan’s mood lifted ever so slightly.

The rest of the lesson, they compared stories and at the end, Athelstan collected the essays to do some corrective work on them. He did not grade his students (marks would only be given out in grade three and up) but he did like to give them suggestions to improve and mark passages he thought were very well done. The remaining lessons he gave went smoothly, but Ubbe’s unusual stillness pressed on his heart.

Once he had a cup of tea in his hands, and the teachers in the breakroom had settled down, he cleared his throat and asked his burning question.

“Anyone else thought the Lothbrok kids were awfully quiet today?”, he asked, hoping to sound casual. Much to his dismay he was met with nods and murmurs of agreement.

“Bjorn was extremely irritable today”, one teacher said. “Did not really talk, but he would yell at you if you came too close to him.” Athelstan frowned and sipped his tea, not caring that it burned his throat. Bjorn was in sixth grade, ten years old and usually a very amiable student. Athelstan only taught him once or twice, but he never seemed like one to cause trouble. 

“Only saw the father today, too”, another one of his colleagues mentioned. “Normally the mother is also there.”

The other three children— Sigurd, Hvitserk and Ivar, as Athelstan had just learned— behaved similar to Bjorn or Ubbe. 

“If this continues, we should have a talk with the parents”, Athelstan suggested and was, once again, met with agreement. His gaze wandered over to the window, where he could see the five boys by a tall and muscular man with dark long hair. Athelstan’s heart skipped a beat seeing the children being picked up by someone that was not their parent, but then he remembered their uncle, Rollo. He had picked them up a few times before, and from what he had gathered they loved each other very much. Their hugs were filled with love still, but they were different from the bear hugs that Athelstan remembered seeing.

He took another sip of his tea and swore to himself that he would get to the bottom of this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe a small tw: panic/anxiety attack? i'm not sure what this qualifies as, sorry

Ragnar sighed as he fell into the car seat next to Floki. His best friend looked at him with sad eyes.

“You work too hard”, he said quietly. “Eat too little, say too little, but work too much.” Floki stared Ragnar down, as he leaned against the car window, taking a deep breath. “That’s why the kids are with Rollo and Siggy today”, he mumbled. “Start the car, please.” 

Ragnar really appreciated Floki’s concern, but his mind was elsewhere. He wasn’t important right now. Only his boys mattered. He could feel Floki’s gaze on him for a little longer, before the engine was finally turned on and the car started. Ragnar welcomed the silence that ensued, but Floki was not done worrying.

“Look, I know it has not been long”, he started, “but you need to start dealing with this shit. Get a therapist, please Ragnar.” 

Ragnar rolled his eyes, rubbing his face with one hand so that Floki would not see. A car overtook them on the right side and Floki cursed quietly. 

“Floki, I love you, but shut the fuck up”, Ragnar said. “My boys are going to therapy, I need to pay rent and groceries, insurance and what fucking not. I have neither the time nor the money, okay?” He curled his hand into a fist, fingernails painfully pressing into the palm of his hand as he blinked away tears. Another silence ensued and Ragnar squirmed uncomfortably. He did not like the way Floki was gripping the steering wheel. 

“With Aslaug...out of the picture”, Ragnar whispered, “there’s just a chunk missing.” Now it was Floki’s turn to take a breath, Ragnar was just glad that the other man stayed focused on the road.

“See? You won’t even admit what happened”, Floki mumbled. “You haven’t told anyone, not even Rollo. We want to help you, but you are so closed off. I’m surprised we’re even in a car together.” Ragnar bit his lip. He hated the way Floki worded things, as if it was his fault (maybe it was, he didn’t know). 

“Floki, it is my choice”, he said slowly and carefully, putting emphasis on every word.

“But Ragnar —” Ragnar did not hear the end of it. He could only see red, hear the screams, feeling his chest constrict with panic.

“NO!”, he screamed, bringing his fist down hard on his thigh. He gasped quietly, not even registering the movement. Still, he was glad for the bruising pain as his mind came quickly back to reality. “No”, he said calmer, noticing how white Floki’s knuckles were around the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Floki. But this conversation is done.”

“I’m sorry, Ragnar”, he said. Silence ensued. 

“Thank you so much for giving me a ride”, Ragnar said as he and Floki got out of the car. “Of course”, Floki smiled and raised his arms to give his friend a hug. Ragnar flinched violently, stepping back to get out of reach. For a second, the ground was spinning beneath his feet, and he had to pinch himself to stop his thoughts from spiralling. Floki quickly lowered his arms.

“Sorry, I forgot”, he said sheepishly. Ragnar smiled slightly and stepped towards him again. “No worries”, he dismissed the case.

“I- uhm….Thank you. Again”, Ragnar said, putting his hands in his pockets so that he would stop fidgeting. His heart was beating too fast, they were way too vulnerable out here in the streets. And Floki looking at him with this much concern? Was he even worth that effort?

“You’ve put so much effort into this mess…”, he trailed off. Floki giggled, and Ragnar’s heart slowed down the tiniest bit. It reminded him of before _that_. The time when they could laugh and fight with each other and Floki would giggle and make stupid jokes. Ragnar hated that he wiped the smile off his face. Not just Floki, but also Rollo and Siggy and his sons. No one laughed as much as they used to and he hated that it was his fault.

“You needed the job, we needed a carpenter”, Floki said. “And now, get some rest”, he ordered to which Ragnar could only huff out a laugh. Sleep was not his friend at the moment, and he worried it might never be. 

The men two-finger saluted and Floki got back into his car. Ragnar watched him drive off, standing outside for a while longer. As he walked towards the entrance of the small house he and his boys lived in, he made a mental to do list. Make dinner for the boys, help them with their homework, make them lunch for tomorrow, help them pack their bags, and then help them fall asleep. 

It was the last part that always proved to be difficult. He would burn that bridge when he got to it, he decided. 

Ragnar’s hands shook as he tried to unlock the door. His patience was running on empty, and much to his dismay he could feel the tremors in his hands spread throughout his body. The key was suddenly incredibly cold between his fingers. Almost like….

He dropped the key. The sound of metal scraping against stone pierced his ears, and he fought the urge to cover them like a small child. He hated it. He hated it with all his heart. But he was alone and there was no one to help him as his throat closed up and his breath became shallow and uneven. Ragnar’s focus switched from the key to his shaking hands and back. Back and forth, back and forth. Always. He groaned at the emerging pounding his head, forced to drop to his knees when his trembling legs refused to hold his weight any longer. 

Ragnar hid his face in his hands, pressing onto his eyelids so that no tears would escape them. The bite of the late summer winds was like tiny icicles against his skin, unusually cold for this time of the year. 

_Cold stone floor. Summer breeze. Stone wall. Smells like barbecue down the street. Kids are yelling._ He kept repeating these words, whispering them quietly so that only he himself could hear them. 

After an agonizingly long time, his breath finally evened out and he trusted his legs again. Carefully he stood up, the key in one hand, holding on to the wall with the other in case the world started to spin. Ragnar blinked a few times, focusing his vision on the real world around him before he finally managed to insert the key into the lock. He had just unlocked the door, when he heard his name being shouted.

“Ragnar!” He turned around to see Rollo and Siggy coming toward him, his five sons running up to him (this time Hvitserk was pushing Ivar in his wheelchair), tackling him in a giant group hug. Ragnar needed a moment to process what was happening. _These are your children,_ he kept reminding himself, as he tried to keep calm, giving each of his sons the love they deserved and so desperately needed. 

Yet, he could not help his vision becoming unfocused and his mind zoning in and out reality as he hugged his sons and waited for Rollo and Siggy to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! I hope y'all enjoyed. i am very happy that some of you have begun reading this and i hope you stick around through my trauma and caffeine induced writings :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Lothbrok family time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm giving you another update because i kind of really like this story (free therapy, ayeee) and for some reason the writing gods have decided to bless me with some motivation.
> 
> i hope you enjoy, and you are very welcome to leave any thoughts/criticism/suggestions/etc. in the comments :)
> 
> thank you!

Rollo watched sadly, as his brother hugged his sons. Ragnar’s smile was distant and as Rollo approached he could see his blue eyes fading in and out of focus. Before _it_ happened, he had found it fascinating, watching as Ragnar’s eyes went pale, glazing over and almost glowing as he got lost in his work, a fantasy world, or just waking up. He had loved watching the glow fade to a deep sea of cerulean as Ragnar arrived in reality again. Now though, now he hated it. The glazed over glow appeared more often than Rollo wanted it to, and way too often his brother’s eyes never quite returned to earth. 

“Kids! Let your father breathe!”, Siggy chuckled. Rollo was grateful for her attempt at getting Ragnar some personal space. 

“Come on in, come on in”, he said, his sons running inside in an instant. Rollo hesitated as Siggy followed the children. Another thing that Rollo hated, was the way he repeated himself. He had always done that as a child, and it used to be quite endearing, but now it seemed to never stop. As if he feared he would not be heard the first time. 

Rollo banned the thoughts, his brother did not need any more things to worry about. And so, he walked inside, waiting for the click of a closing door. It took longer than he would have liked and the breath that followed sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. 

“I’m fine, Rollo”, Ragnar mumbled as he passed him, trying to save Siggy from his sons play-fighting somewhere in the house. Rollo huffed in disbelief, the way Ragnar was squeezing past him in the narrow hallway (the walls were too bright, the paint job too recent) was telling him the exact opposite. He took off his shoes and then followed his brother to the living room. Well, it was the kitchen, dining area and living room in one, leading out into a garden that was shared with other residents, a community space that had been used fairly often until this summer. Rollo used to enjoy the house. It was small, sure, but it was open and bright and friendly. Two stories high, with the community spaces on the ground floor and three individual rooms upstairs. 

Rollo had liked the way the pictures hung on the walls, the small paintings on the wallpaper the kids had made when they had been toddlers. The organised chaos that had been here. 

But everything was changed. The house was still the same, but changed in a way. It was too bright (although the once white walls had been painted dark), no pictures hung, no finger paintings, no marks on the wall to mark the ever changing height of the boys. The only thing Rollo liked better was the new furniture. Ragnar had made them himself. Sturdy, rustic wood interior that completed the black tiled floor and the fluffy rugs that were in their fitting spots. 

Rollo hated it. He hated being in this house, and he could not imagine how Ragnar must’ve felt. But unless he told him, Rollo would never know. They were brothers. They loved each other. And yet, hiding his feelings was Ragnar’s superpower, along with trying to raise five kids on his own. 

“Rollo! Ragnar! Save me from these vicious children!”, Siggy cried out theatrically, draping herself over the sofa as the four boys surrounded her and the fifth came flying from Bjorn’s hands. All of them broke out in laughter. Ragnar fell to his knees on the conveniently placed carpet, holding his stomach and gasping for air. It was a real laugh. A really real laugh. And that made Rollo laugh harder until he joined his brother on the floor. For a few moments, the world was okay again.

“Bjorn, please”, Ragnar managed through gasping breaths, wiping tears out of his eyes. “Do not throw Ivar”, he said. He did not sound scolding and the room erupted in a new wave of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“It’s fun, though!”, Ivar piped in, once he had calmed down enough to speak. Slowly but surely they all ceased their laughter, sitting in silence for a few minutes. Pretending everything was okay. At least Rollo did. 

“I’m hungry”, Sigurd said, watching in wonder as his stomach rumbled. Rollo could barely hold back a frown as he watched his brother scramble to his feet.

“Yes, yes!”, he exclaimed. “Dinner, dinner. Of course, yeah. How does spaghetti sound? Everyone good with spaghetti?” There it was again. That repeating of every phrase, the frantic almost slurred together words. Rollo hated it.

“With tomato sauce?”, Ivar asked, pushing himself from where he had half been laying on Siggy. 

“Yes, with tomato sauce”, Ragnar said, grunting as he picked Ivar up. Rollo could not hide his frown this time. His brother had been able to pick Ivar up, no problem, just a few weeks ago. Even a six year old boy could not grow that much in a few weeks.

“We should get going then”, Siggy said, getting up from the couch, making sure to mess with each of the boys' hair. Rollo followed suit, coming to his feet again.

“Oh no! Please, stay for dinner. Stay”, Ragnar smiled at them, adjusting Ivar on his hip. Rollo and Siggy looked at each other, contemplating for a moment. They did feel guilty, occupying so much of Ragnar’s limited resources, but maybe they could take some of the work off him and at least continue to entertain the boys. Siggy put a hand around Rollo’s waist, pulling him close, before she diverted her attention back to Ragnar.

“We would love to stay”, she answered, returning the timid smile the man gave them.

“I can help you cook and Rollo can take care of the boys?”, Siggy suggested and Ragnar nodded. He pressed a gentle kiss to Ivar’s forehead, before he handed the boy over to Rollo. His concern for his brother only deepened as he felt Ivar’s weight. It wasn’t Ivar’s weight that worried him, the child was perfectly healthy, but the way Rollo knew his brother, he should have been able to lift him without a struggle. 

There was no time for these thoughts now. He had five growing boys that were looking for a good play-fight to let out some pent up anger and pain. And oh, he would give it to them. Their excited yells and screams drowned out the conversation Siggy and Ragnar were having and Rollo was thankful that, for once, he could stop worrying about his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> family time will be continued next chapter, and then we're gonna go back to Athelstan :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh, this is just excessive usage of the word brother, the meaning of eyes and body language and I have nothing to say in my defense.
> 
> have fun :)

Rollo had just picked up a squealing Sigurd when Siggy called them to dinner. He threw the boy over his shoulder playfully, striding over to the table, the other kids following. They sat down, heaps of spaghetti and tomato sauce were put onto dinner plates and the boys dug in as if they had been starving for weeks. Rollo had to chuckle at their behaviour, noting Ragnar’s stern gaze as Ivar got his fork ready to throw some pasta at Hvitserk. With a disappointed glare, Ivar shoved the food into his mouth, the taste bringing back a smile to his face. (Rollo had to admit, his brother was a very good cook.) Delicious as the food was, Rollo could not help but notice that his brother was barely eating. After the children had settled down some, munching on their meals happily, the glazed over glow had returned to Ragnar’s eyes as he poked his own portion with his fork. Rollo frowned, gently kicking Siggy under the table so that she would notice. His wife looked at him with a questioning expression, before she noted who the subject of his concern was. She cleared her throat.

“Ragnar, how’s Floki?”, she asked, trying her best to sound casual. The man in question raised his eyes to Siggy, blinking as he processed her words.

“Yea, how _is_ Floki?”, Bjorn repeated, stopping his fork halfway to his mouth. Now it was Ragnar’s turn to clear his throat.

“He’s well. A little stressed because he and Helga are moving in together”, Rollo’s brother said, the faintest of smiles on his face.

“Finally!”, Rollo chuckled. He liked Floki, even though they would not have much contact if it wasn’t for Ragnar. The man was a little odd at times, but Rollo was still glad that he had finally found someone that loved him the way he was. He was thankful that the topic had brought a genuine, if small, smile to Ragnar’s face. 

The conversation seemed to flow from there, the boys piping in here and there, completely transformed from the way they had been acting in school. Rollo completely understood. He felt more at ease when he could see his brother at all times. It was only natural for the children to be more lively when they could be certain their father was secure and close, and not leaving. Still, he was worried about Ivar’s and Bjorn’s temper exploding at the wrong moment. In comparison to their brothers, they were quite hot headed and not scared to start a fight, even at their young ages. 

“Okay, boys”, Ragnar announced once everyone was finished eating. “Please go do your homework.” Rollo noted how Ragnar started to repeat the sentence, but his sons cut him off, affirming they would and ran upstairs to their rooms. He had to admit, he was a little jealous at the pure love in Ragnar’s expression as he watched his boys scramble up the stairs, Ubbe and Sigurd carrying a laughing Ivar between them. (The house had been made to be accessible to the boy’s wheelchair, but his brothers always insisted that carrying him was quicker and more fun.) Sometimes Rollo thought about having his own children, but when Siggy and him took care of the boys for a weekend they were tired and exhausted and so they were not sure if they could handle the responsibility of having their own child. 

The sound of plates being stacked together brought him back to reality. Siggy and Ragnar had started to clean up the mess dinner had been, and Rollo decided to be helpful, grabbing a washcloth to wipe tomato sauce off the wooden table. 

The silence weighed heavily on Rollo’s heart, a reminder of a time when everything started going wrong for his little brother. He had been able to help back then, but now it had gotten out of hand. He wanted to scream, curse everyone who had caused it all to go down the drain, but there was nothing he could do now. 

“I’m gonna go check on them real quick”, Ragnar broke the silence, mumbling under his breath as he left Rollo and Siggy in the kitchen. 

Rollo let out a heavy sigh, earning a sympathetic smile from Siggy.

“He’ll be alright”, she said, leaning against the kitchen counter. Rollo approached her, leaning into her warm embrace as she pulled him into a hug. He could only nod, he had no choice but to believe her. The thought of losing his baby brother had been in his head for too long. Since that damned day that changed everything. Since the day Rollo had to comfort his crying brother, bloody nose, out of breath with those glossed over eyes, unable to speak, he had been afraid of losing him. 

“I need to...I need to see him”, Rollo mumbled. Every time he spiralled into those memories, he had the intense desire to pull Ragnar into a tight hug and never release him again. They had laughed about it just a few weeks ago. It wasn’t funny anymore. Siggy pressed a soft kiss on his head, before she let him go. He gave her a smile before he went upstairs. 

Rollo waited a moment at the top of the stairs, listening to Ragnar trying to explain subtraction to Ubbe. The normality of the situation was comforting. (Rollo hated to admit it but sometimes the worry he felt was too overwhelming. Siggy was his rock when he was drowning in his anxieties and he loved her to no end.)

Lost in thought he did not notice Ragnar approaching.

“Everything okay, Rollo? Are you alright?”, he asked softly. Rollo almost flinched, startled by the sudden proximity. Ragnar must have seen him standing there. (Rollo had a feeling that his brother was now painfully aware of his environment at all times.) He huffed.

“Should have asked you that”, he mumbled, his gaze going over Ragnar’s shoulder to focus the closed door. Distantly he noted the eye roll he received.

“Told you. I’m fine, I’m fine”, Ragnar said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“Mhm”, Rollo hummed. “And when are you going to unlock that door?”, he asked, maybe a little more aggressively than he had intended. He cringed inwardly when Ragnar’s breath hitched and he took a tentative step back. The man in front of him stuttered, struggling to find words to justify himself. Rollo wanted to grab him, tuck him under his chin and hold him tight. He sighed in frustration.

"That was unnecessary. I'm sorry", he apologized. A heavy weight fell off his shoulders when Ragnar's posture relaxed.

"'S alright", he muttered. 

There was a long silence between them, just the odd annoyed sigh from one of the boys was audible. There were a lot of silences in the last few weeks.

Rollo cleared his throat.

"I, uhm, I think Siggy and I should head home", he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. Ragnar nodded and hummed to show his agreement.

"Boys?", he asked into the two rooms that were not closed off. "Can you say goodbye to Rollo and Siggy?"

In an instant the five boys, Ivar on Bjorn's back, were in the small hallway hugging Rollo goodbye. He patted their backs with a smile on his face and when they raced down the stairs to say their goodbyes to Siggy, Rollo and Ragnar followed. (Rollo pretended that he did not notice Ragnar staring at the closed door before he followed.)

Siggy was laughing, trying to wiggle out of Lothbrok-Boys-Group-Hug when the two brothers entered the kitchen again. 

"Let me breathe!" she demanded giggling. With playfully annoyed groans the five boys backed away so that Siggy could approach her husband. 

"Are you boys done? Have you finished your homework?", Ragnar asked them, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. There was some annoyed murmuring among the kids before they shook their heads and went back up the stairs.

"I made some lunch for you guys for tomorrow", Siggy smiled at Ragnar as they walked into the hallway. He covered his face with his hands, exhaling heavily.

"Thank you so much! I would have been in such a rush", he said, his words muffled as he dragged his hands down his face.

"Well...get home safe. Drive carefully", Ragnar told them, once they had put on their shoes and grabbed their jackets. Rollo had to, again, fight the urge to hug his brother goodbye. The way he stood, leaned against the wall, making himself as small as he could possibly be while standing up tugged on Rollo's heartstrings. He refrained, though. Nothing was worse than seeing the way Ragnar flinched away from even his own brother's touch.

"We will", he assured him. "I love you, bud. Take it easy, okay?", Rollo asked, to which Ragnar smiled shyly and nodded. 

Once Siggy had said her farewell, they went out the door, leaving Ragnar and his sons alone. 

"I just wish I could help him", Rollo sighed, taking Siggy's hand in his.

"You are helping", she assured her husband. "It helps him to know that you'll be there for him. That's enough."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan reads some essays and he is not happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promised you some Athelstan and here it is. it's not very eventful, but i needed to give my manz some screen time. I hope you still enjoy as we will get back into the sad shit with the next chapter :)

Athelstan did not have children, but that didn't stop him from feeling like he did. It wasn't even being an elementary school teacher that made him feel like that. No but adopting a failed service dog definitely did feel like having a toddler around at all times. Athelstan didn't think of his dog as failed, he just had a mind of his own and executed his commands at will.

Which is why Athelstan was now fighting with his child-proofed front door while his dog stood in the hallway waiting for him, excitedly wagging his tail.

“Atreyu, calm down”, he laughed to himself, setting his bag down so that he could finally use both hands to open the child lock. Once he had done that, he was on his knees, engulfed in a cloud of fur and a wet tongue as Atreyu greeted his companion with all the love a dog could give.

Athelstan cuddled him for a few minutes before he stood up and grabbed his bag to finally get settled in for the rest of the day. 

A citrus smell welcomed him in his house (or rather, his parents’ house, as they had left it to him when they had unfortunately passed from this world). He liked the modern style of the house. The rather simplistic colour scheme of black and white, with a few specks of colours in the form of wall decorations, plant and pillows were enough accentuation. His job was so colourful already, it would just be too much for him to bring that chaos home. He sat his bag down on his broken glass table, Atreyu still at his heels. 

“You want dinner, huh?”, Athelstan chuckled, patting the dog’s head. “We don’t want you chomping down on the glass table again, huh?”

It had been quite a sight when Athelstan had come home one day to find Atreyu with a large shard of glass between his teeth, wagging his tail proudly as if he had just killed a magnificent beast. His only choice had been to sand down the edges of the table so that no one could get hurt. Judith, his best friend, had been pressuring him to order a custom made wood table from the carpentry that was not far from her house. He always told her that he would, yet he had never gotten around to do it. 

As he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to retrieve the dog food, a fluffy tail brushed his legs and a soft meow welcomed him home.

“Hello, Elsa”, he greeted the norwegian forest cat. The stress of what had happened with the Lothbrok children today must have weighed heavier on him than he had originally thought, he pondered as he poured some food into Atreyu’s bowl. Elsa was not a very affectionate cat. She’d only sit on people and reluctantly accept cuddles when she could sense their distress, but she was always glad to go when Athelstan shooed her off because he needed to move. 

He got into his cabinets again, looking for the cat food this time. It was almost comical to him how different the two pets were. Atreyu would sometimes just smother him in affection at only the slightest hint of sadness. It was adorable, he had to admit, but he could understand how this, in addition to Atreyu’s stubbornness, could be detrimental to his effectiveness as a service dog. 

As soon as both the animals were fed, Athelstan retrieved some leftover pizza from the fridge, not bothering to heat it up. Cold pizza was the best pizza in his opinion. He grabbed a plate to put the three slices of pure carbs and cheese on, poured himself a glass of water and placed both on his damaged table. 

It was finally time to do his teacherly duties again. In a way he had missed this over the summer, although it had been nice to get to be lazy all day long. Once he retrieved the short essays from his second graders, he returned to his provisional dinner and, with a pen ready in hand, he started to mark the stories. 

Setting this task was one of his favorites for all grades at the beginning of the year and it never failed to bring a smile to his face. The essays talked of exciting trips to the zoo, visits to grandparents, newly acquired skills and so on. He had only two essays left, when his phone rang. 

Atreyu, who had been almost asleep in his bed, started barking loudly to alert Athelstan.

“I know, buddy”, he called to calm the dog, not quite sure where he had put the device. But a dog such as Atreyu did have his benefits. His snout was buried in Athelstan’s bag, that he still had not picked up from the floor, and within seconds the golden retriever pranced over to Athelstan, handing him the phone. 

“Thank you”, Athelstan smiled at the dog, taking the phone and ruffling through the golden fur in gratitude.

“Judith!”, he said cheerily, returning to his essays. He saw Ubbe’s name peeking out from under the other essay and he halted for a moment, not remembering that the boy had turned something in. A heavy feeling settled in his gut, and he missed what Judith had been saying.

“ _ Athelstan? You there? _ ”, she asked through the speaker, and he hummed, his attention still on the name at the top of the last vacation story. 

_ “Good. Because Aethelwulf-” _ , she started but Athelstan cut her off right there.

“You and Aethelwulf need to get your shit together”, he remarked, munching on his pizza. “You are two grown adults with a baby on the way.”

_ “I know, I know” _ , Judith returned exasperated. “ _ But he is such an idiot sometimes!” _

Athelstan chuckled. “I know. I told you right from the start that he’s annoying. He’s just nervous about having kids”, he tried to reason with his best friend.

_ “Probably. I’m trying to get him to go to couple’s therapy, you know?” _ , she asked. Athelstan was just about to answer her, when she plunged into a new topic. (How she managed to drop and pick up new conversation topics so effortlessly was beyond him.)

_ “Did you finally commission a new table” _ , she wanted to know. Athelstan rolled his eyes. Of course she was still going on about that table.

“I’ll do it next week”, he said, hoping to satisfy her with his answer. It seemed to be enough, as she hummed and she refrained from plunging into a spiel about how he  _ really _ needed to get that done. 

_ “Alright. I’ll see you soon for lunch, right? _ ”

“Yeah, of course. Just gotta see if the schedule stays fixed”, he confirmed, nodding along even though Judith could not see him. They bode each other farewell and Athelstan could finally turn his attention back to his essays. He chugged the glass of water and with a sigh, he pulled Ubbe’s paper out, the other leftover essay, just as the last slice of pizza, forgotten on the broken glass table. 

The heavy feeling in his gut spread throughout his whole body as he read the few sentences the boy had managed to bring onto the paper.

_ Summer was not great. Mummy is gone and Daddy keeps apologizing to us. It’s not his fault. He tries so hard to keep us happy but he is so tired all the time. That makes me really sad.  _

Athelstan could not even appreciate the lack of mistakes in the short text, as tears brimmed in his eyes. He blinked them away, swearing to keep an extra eye on the children, and their father if he ever had the possibility. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bjorn has a nightmare. Cuddling ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! a quick TW: slight gore  
> it's not too graphic and I'll give a summary at the end, so you can just skip the cursive part if you are sensitive to this. as a reward you guys get some lothbrok family cuddles.
> 
> still hope you can enjoy this chapter :)

It was dark outside already when Ragnar Lothbrok attempted to calm his five sons enough to go to sleep. He chased them around with a smile on his face, picking them up, spinning them around, throwing them over the sofa to get a laugh out of them and to tire them out. His oldest son, Bjorn, let out a yawn.

“Guys, let’s get to bed”, he suggested, stretching his long limbs blissfully. Hvitserk, who had just successfully climbed on top of his father’s shoulders, frowned.

“But I’m having fun!”, the boy complained, holding onto his father so that he would not fall down. 

“I’m tired, too!”, Sigurd chimed in, catching onto Bjorn’s plan. Ragnar set Hvitserk down and ruffled his hair. 

“Go on then”, he said. “Brush your teeth, get ready for bed.” Ubbe took Hvitserk’s hand, who was still mumbling about how he was _not_ tired, and led him away to the bathroom. When Ragnar went to scoop up Ivar, Bjorn intervened.

“Let me do that”, the boy said with a hint of excitement. He loved the responsibility of taking care of his brothers sometimes. His chest flared with pride when his father smiled down at him, nodding in his respect, as he engulfed his brother in a hug and lifted him up with a grunt. The younger one cuddled into his brother as he was carried into the bathroom, where Sigurd, Hvitserk and Ubbe were already fighting to get to the sink to brush their teeth. Bjorn sat Ivar down on the edge of the bathtub, reaching over his brothers to grab their two toothbrushes.

“That’s not fair!”, Sigurd whined. “You’re way too tall!” Bjorn grinned down at him, sticking his tongue out before he returned to Ivar, who took his things from Bjorn with a small smile of gratitude. 

It had taken a while but finally the five boys had figured out their sink order and had successfully put on their pajamas, cleaned their teeth and washed their faces.

Bjorn still was not tired, but he noticed how exhausted his father had looked despite the constant smile he had on his face. (He might be young, but he was not stupid.) His brothers seemed to feel just as awake as he was, Ubbe had grabbed Ivar and the other two boys were chasing them around the living room. With a laugh Bjorn followed, not even being able to catch his breath as his father pushed him on the sofa playfully and snatched Ivar out of Ubbe’s arms, racing Hvitserk and Sigurd around the table before the two broke down panting and laughing. 

“Bedtime?”, Ragnar asked, standing over two of his sons, turning at the thud that sounded when Bjorn rolled off the sofa.

“Bedtime!”, Bjorn called back, the short chase had actually tired him out. The brothers all came to their feet again, shuffling up the stairs with Ragnar following. Bjorn shared a room with Ivar, while Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd slept in the other room next to them. Bjorn could not help but to steal a glance at the locked door across from his room. Sighing, he fell down on the mattress and cuddled deep into his blankets, closing his eyes. He smiled when he felt his father pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead (as all the other boys had, and they loved this silent way of saying _sleep well_ ). Darkness appeared behind Bjorn’s eyelids when the light shut off and he could hear the soft close of a door. Almost holding his breath he waited, trying to listen for quiet footsteps that descended down the staircase, but he could hear nothing of the sort. There was a heavy breath and then silence, but Bjorn didn’t have time thinking about it as the warm blanket of sleep lulled him in. 

_Bjorn and his brothers had just spent the weekend with their uncle and aunt, Rollo and Siggy, so that their parents could have a bit of a break from the inevitable chaos. Aslaug and Ragnar were really putting their all into raising these kids and Bjorn only now started to understand it. Even though he missed his mother and sister, he loved Aslaug and she did her best to love him. So naturally, excited as he was to see his parents again, he ran toward the front door, ready to unleash an unholy number of knocks. But when he arrived, he saw that the door hung slightly open. Bjorn stood in wonder for a few moments before Rollo appeared behind him._

_“What’s going on?”, the man mumbled, carefully pushing the door open. Bjorn barely registered the shocked gasp as he took in his home. He had remembered the walls to be white, not streaked with red handprints, and he also did not remember the broken picture frames and vases, the glass shards on the floor and thrown around furniture. Rollo pushed past him, momentarily forgetting about his existence._

_“Siggy, stay outside with the kids”, he called before entering the thrashed home. “Ragnar! Aslaug!”, Rollo yelled as he stood inside, not getting an answer. Worry weighed heavy in Bjorn’s heart and so he slipped silently past Rollo, creeping up the stairs.The floor was weirdly wet, covered in the crimson substance as the walls and Bjorn was not quite sure of the meaning of it but he did not like it. (He knew what blood was. That knowledge had conveniently fled his mind though.) The door to his and Ivar’s room was closed, as was the door to his brothers’ room. A small sliver of light fell from his parents’ door. His muscles almost refused their services as he reached out his arm to push the door open. Downstairs Rollo was still shouting for Ragnar and Aslaug, and Bjorn was sure his name was in there somewhere, but it did not matter. His socks suddenly got wet. Looking down he saw his shoes, soaked in a puddle of this weird red liquid. He opened the door. Fear set in. He did not know what was going on. There was even more red than before. There were two bodies on the floor, and vaguely he could place them as Ragnar, his father, and Aslaug, his almost-mother. Bjorn was frozen. The bodies did not look right. He could see that there was one hand holding on tightly to another, and one body (it must have been his father, he was sure) was moving ever so slightly and only now Bjorn became aware of the sound of gasping breaths and the occasional choked and pained moan. His eyes followed the locked hands to the other body (it must have been Aslaug) but it did not look_ right. _There was something missing. Bjorn was sure that people needed a head to live. He was sure that the head needed to be attached to the body. And that might have been why (Aslaug) the body was not moving anymore. The head was not there anymore. Wait. No. It was there. In a way. He could see blonde curls laying by the still moving body. But the head was not attached to the body anymore and that’s why the body was not moving._

_“Bjorn!”, came a shocked voice, and he felt himself being scooped up. His vision was blocked by Rollo’s body and he could feel the man running down the stairs._

_“Siggy, call 911!”, he screamed and Bjorn wondered why he was so panicked. He did not understand what was going on. Where were his parents? Why was everything red? What_ happened _? His throat did not succumb to his thoughts and so he was left in silence._

Bjorn awoke with a small yell, cold sweat covering his skin. In an instant a warm, strong pair of arms wrapped around him, pulling him against an even warmer body. (He knew bodies were supposed to be warm, this was _good_.) A hand held his head and he cuddled into the embrace.

“It’s alright, you’re alright”, a voice whispered and only now Bjorn came back to reality. The light had been turned on, his brother’s were looking at him with concerned expressions and he was engulfed in his father’s arms. Bjorn reached out to hold onto him. His dad was here. He was alive and he was _safe._

“Bad dream…”, Bjorn managed to mumble. He felt the arms around him tighten momentarily, a mutual understanding of what had gone on in Bjorn’s dreams.

“Camping in the living room?”, Ragnar asked the five of them. There was an agreeing murmur and Bjorn could only nod. 

“Come on, bud. Come on”, his father whispered, pulling him to his feet gently. The six of them grabbed as many pillows and blankets (and Ragnar additionally carried Ivar) as they could find and went downstairs. 

With hushed giggles and a few quiet complaints, they made a makeshift bed out of their pillows and blankets, using the sofa to make it a little more comfortable. The moon shone through the glass door leading into the garden, creating a show of their small, moving shadows on the floor. 

Once they were done, the five brother’s piled on top of their father, who tried to give all of them the much needed hugs. Bjorn’s head leaned on his shoulder. He could feel the tense muscles, and something in him told him that it had not always been like this, but he was too tired to really care. There was the odd satisfied hum, and Bjorn could hear Ivar’s soft snores as he finally drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick summary of the gore-y part. Bjorn dreams about finding Aslaug and Ragnar in their house where the walls are covered in blood. he can tell that ragnar is still (kind of) breathing but aslaug is not moving and in his shocked state he onyl remarks that this might be bc her head is missing.
> 
> okay, i know this reads like its already off the goddamn rails but i PROMISE i actually have a PLAN!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar has some doubts about being a father and slips away into a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all again, quick tw for blood and violence. unfortunately idk what classifies as graphic, but just so youre warned.
> 
> this man speaks norwegian bc i say so. i really hope he speaks correctly, my norwegian is really bad as i have been learning for only a short time and it is the fifth language floating around in my brain. if any of yalls speak norwegian, feel free to correct me please! (translations are at the end :))  
>  anyway, have fun :)

Ragnar took a deep, heavy breath as he looked down at his five sons. The moon shining through the glass door gave their faces a ghostly glow and he did not like it. They were sleeping, he knew that. Their breaths were even, their faces relaxed. Ivar snored softly and Bjorn and him were leaning against his upper body, while Hvitserk, Sigurd and Ubbe had somehow all found a way to pile up on his legs. He felt them and he felt they were alive. Still, that ghostly glow sent his mind down a path he never wanted to go down again. Ragnar squeezed his eyes shut, willing a tear away, and tried to keep his breath steady. His boys deserved to sleep. There was no need for them to know that he barely closed his eyes at night.

Unwanted guilt welled up in him as he looked at the boys that were piled onto him. They deserved a better father. They deserved a  _ mother _ . These boys deserved parents that could give them everything they desired. And he could not do that. Since that fateful day he sometimes even struggled to love his sons. Their love language was physical touch and it used to be his too, but since he had felt those unwanted hands on him, ever since he was sure he had experienced every type of pain there is, he could no longer be touched. Ragnar hated himself for it. Those were his sons. They were not going to hurt him, never. He knew that.

He leaned his back, a single tear escaping his closed eyes. Ragnar had to bite back a bitter laugh. Here he was, afraid to sleep because all the pain would come back and afraid to be awake because he would have to look at his sons’ ghostly faces. 

Bjorn shifted in his sleep and Ragnar forced himself to open his eyes, laying a protective arm around the boy. His gaze was fixated on his son’s white cheek as he drifted off into a waking nightmare. 

_ “Lagertha! Gyda!”, he gasped, coughing up blood as he held his aching ribcage. He stumbled through the apartment, vision fading in and out as he searched for his girlfriend and daughter. Blood was clouding his mind, everything hurt (his leg hurt, he was quite sure that a leg was not supposed to hurt like this) and these men with those black clothes were behind him. _

_ "Løp! Vær så snill!”, Ragnar begged, tears rushing to his eyes as he felt his pursuers getting closing. His chest hurt too much to breathe, blood was flowing out of his mouth and the whole world was spinning. There was a hand on his shoulder. (Why was there a hand on his shoulder?) More pain seared through his arm as he was spun around and pushed to the floor. He screamed when someone grabbed his leg and dragged him along. A sharp kick to his head shut him up. The world was flickering in front of his eyes and he had no idea where his family was. (Bjorn was safe. Bjorn was not home. It relieved him, if only shortly.) _

_ “You wanna see your precious girls?”, the shadow dragging him sneered. He knew that voice better than he should. Too often had he heard it, too young to hear it the first time he did, but a name he had never heard. Ragnar kicked weakly in a feeble attempt to free himself, but his attempts were quickly cut short when something collided with his ribcage (again?, he could only think sarcastically) and he hacked up more blood.  _

_ “There they are”, the shadow said (he knew the face, why was there no face?), letting go of his leg. From behind him someone got hold of his neck, forcing him into a kneeling position so that he could see the mess in front of him. Ragnar desperately looked for words. The blood was rushing in his ears. (Not only his ears, it was everywhere.) The world came into focus again. Their faces were too pale. Their eyes were too glassy. And they weren’t breathing. Why were they not breathing? The painful hand at his neck was forgotten. Ragnar reached forward, desperate to find a sign of life. The bodies were so cold. Too cold. Life was not cold. Life was warm. (Sometimes it was cold, he knew, but not like this. Never like this.) His whole body shook, he would have collapsed if it were not for that second shadow making sure he stayed upright. A gentle hand (too gentle, why was it gentle?) lifted his chin and he was forced to stare at the faceless figure. (He knew the face! Where was the fucking face?!) _

_ “We’re not done. We're never done”, the voice whispered smooth as silk. Ragnar wrenched his head out of the strange hold and bit down onto the hand that had been holding his chin. (Raw human flesh. What a disgusting taste. Imprinted in his mind forever.) The slap he received sent him to the hard stone floor. The faceless shadow stood over him. (Where did the gun come from? He could not leave Bjorn alone.) The gun was locked and loaded. It was a simple pull of the trigger and then —. _

The shrill ringtone of his telephone made Ragnar jump back into reality. He did not even register that the sun was up. Through the mess of legs and arms that ensued throughout the night, he grabbed his phone. The caller ID registered in his head in sync with his eyes finally processing that the sun had risen. Panic set in his heart (they were late again, weren’t they?) and he picked up the phone.

“Floki! Er vi sene?”, he said, a little louder than he intended. Around him, his boys were groaning tiredly, slowly waking up. 

“ _ Good morning?” _ , Floki giggled, the question Ragnar had asked was foreign to him.

“Ah fuck. Unnskyld”, he apologised. Getting his brain to work in English in the morning (well, in general, if he was honest) was  _ hard  _ and naturally he had slipped into his native language. “Are we — hva er ordet?— late?”

_ “Nah. No worries, you got like an hour. Just called to wake you up”,  _ Floki explained. “ _ Knew you’d forget to set an alarm.”  _ Ragnar let out a relieved breath.

“Du er en lifesaver. Takk so much”, he replied, earning a hearty laugh from Floki as his brain still tried to worm through the language labyrinth. 

“ _ Alrighty. I’ll see ya soon”,  _ Floki said his goodbyes and hung up the phone. Ragnar buried his face in one of the pillows, finding the strength to start the day. 

“Alright, boys. Wake up, get up”, he announced, gently poking each of his sons in the stomach. “We don’t wanna be late again. No, we don’t.”

The family resemblance really could not be denied. Just like their father, the children buried their faces in blankets and pillows, groaning in annoyance before they started to roll off the make-shift bed. 

“I’ll make breakfast and you get dressed?”, Ragnar asked them, standing up straight and stretching the tension out of his limbs. At the mention of breakfast, everyone was on their feet within seconds, Ivar on Sigurd’s back.

“Onward! Upstairs to the glorious closet!”, the boy called, pointing his fingers towards the staircase. A mini-race broke out between the children, while Ragnar went to the kitchen to make breakfast. (He had been wearing the same clothes for two days now, one more day could not hurt, right?) Breakfast was simple, and he was grateful for it. Not many children liked porridge, but his boys did. Some spices, nuts and fruits and they were energized for the day. Well, at least till lunch came. 

The five children came down the stairs, right as he portioned the food out for everyone in wooden bowls. (He and Lagertha had almost suffered a heart attack when they had found Bjorn playing with broken dishes one day. Since then he had gone for virtually indestructible tools.) Ragnar poured himself a cup of coffee, eating a small portion of breakfast as he watched his sons. Ivar, again, was getting his spoon ready to launch porridge at one of his brothers.

“Ivar! Do not launch your food!”, Ragnar reminded the boy. 

“But I want to see if I can catch it with my mouth!”, Hvitserk tried to explain. Ragnar rolled his eyes, trying to hide a smile. He loved these chaotic kids so much.

“Then throw some grapes or M&Ms. But not porridge and not pasta. That’s sticky and I don’t wanna clean half eaten oats off the floor”, he reasoned with the two. Maybe this was not the most responsible thing to say, but he did kind of want to see this. 

“Can we get some grapes later?”, Ivar piped up, a sparkle in his eyes. Ragnar chuckled into his coffee.

“Sure, bud, sure we can.” 

When they were finished, Ragnar put the dishes into the sink and made sure everyone had all the things they needed for the day. As if perfectly timed, a car horn sounded outside. Floki was here and as soon as everyone had piled into his van, they drove off, ready to face the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trasnlations  
> Løp! Vær så snill! - Run! Please!  
> Er vi sene? - Are we late?  
> Unnskyld - Sorry/Pardon  
> Hva er ordet? - What is the word?  
> Du er en lifesaver. - You are a lifesaver  
> Takk- Thanks


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bjorn honors his name. Athelstan thinks Ragnar is very attractive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii, I hope these daily updates are not getting annoying :D
> 
> translations are at the end of the chapter again :)

Athelstan sighed in frustration, sipping his coffee. It was tuesday morning and he stood in the teachers’ room, looking at the substitute timetable. His usual tuesday-slump was catching up to him, made worse by the revelation that half his lessons had been moved to the sixth grade. It was anxiety inducing, really. He loved teaching the younger kids. They were easy to excite, they still loved learning and everything was still so new to them. But sixth graders? Most of them were just starting puberty, getting used to hormones, trying to understand all the problems in the world and attempting to find their place in this gigantic mess called a society. Their pent up anger at all those challenges had to find release somewhere, and in Athelstan’s experience that  _ somewhere _ was school. 

He shook his head, stopping his thoughts right there. Not even eight in the morning and this was his train of thought? It definitely would not brighten his day. Steeling himself against a room of tired soon-to-be-adults, he grabbed his backpack and his coffee and headed to his first lesson of the day. 

Tuesdays were honestly and truly not his best days. This was only further proven to be true by the incredibly loud conversations that carried down the hallway. Athelstan prayed to whatever God or Gods there may be, that they would be calmed down easily and would not have enough energy at this time of the day to question his every move.

“Good morning, people!”, he called loudly, setting his things on the desk at the front. To his surprise most conversations died down completely or faded into hushed murmurs once he had made his presence known. Most pupils mumbled a greeting back and Athelstan went on to take attendance. 

His heart jumped when he read the name of another of the Lothbrok sons, Bjorn. He coughed to hide his shock, but was glad to see that this time, the kids seemed to have arrived on time. Athelstan searched for Bjorn as he finished taking attendance and found him looking out the window, zoned out and not paying attention. 

As Athelstan rummaged through his things to find the tasks he had picked out for the students, the conversations picked up again. He decided to listen in on some of the words spoken, just in case. To be prepared for strange discussions and encounters of the sort. One boy was particularly adamant about sharing his thoughts.

“Yeah!”, he said loudly. “That game is so cool! The blood splatters everywhere when you rip off —”, his words were cut off by a loud commotion arising in the classroom and Athelstan turned his attention back on his students.

“What the  _ fuck _ did you just say?!”, another student yelled, holding the boy’s collar in a tight grip. “What is so fucking funny?”, the boy demanded to know. To his horror, Athelstan had to recognize that it was Bjorn who was holding the other boy in an almost-chokehold.

“Bjorn!”, Athelstans shouted over the general chaos. “Let him go! Now!” Bjorn stared at the boy for a heartbeat (and if looks could kill he would be more than dead) before he finally released him. 

“Read the first five pages of your english books please and then do the tasks below”, he instructed the class. “Bjorn, come with me.” 

The boy trudged toward him, following reluctantly as they left the classroom.

“I need to call your parents. What was that Bjorn?”, Athelstan inquired, genuinely curious. Bjorn had never been a problem student, and he had been a very polite boy when Athelstan had run across him in the hallway. But the boy did not answer and Athelstan dropped the topic, at least for the moment. 

Once they had reached the office, Athelstan motioned for Bjorn to sit down, while he went through the computer files to find a usable phone number. At the other end of the call, a very worried sounding Ragnar Lothbrok picked up the phone, promising to be there as soon as he could. 

Athelstan’s attempts to lure Bjorn into a conversation were feeble. The boy only sat in his chair, staring at his hands, not responding to anything Athelstan said. Eventually he gave up and they sat in silence. 

Bjorn shot out of his seat when hurried footsteps echoed throughout the hallway. Ragnar Lothbrok threw the door open with a little more force than necessary, and father and son reunited in a bone-crushing hug. 

“Hva skjedde?”, Ragnar said, more to himself than to his son. Bjorn held on tightly to his father and Athelstan feared he would soon disappear into the man’s flannel. Much to his concern, the boy began to sob.

“He said—...I..it reminded me”, Bjorn was unable to explain himself, and Athelstan could not piece the fragments together, but it seemed that Ragnar Lothbrok knew exactly what was going on in the boy’s mind. 

“Det er ok, kjære”, he said. “Du er ok. Jeg er ok. We’re okay, kjære.” Athelstan watched the scene unfold before him, caught off guard by the foreign language. Bjorn nodded into his father’s chest. (Athelstan was surprised how tall the boy was. Lothbrok was by no means a short man, but already Bjorn reached up to his shoulder.) They held each other a while longer and to Athelstan it seemed that he was seeing Ragnar Lothbrok for the first time. Admittedly, they had seen each other a lot, but for the first he was  _ actually processing _ the man in front of him. 

Ragnar was tall and possessed the kind of muscle that only a combination of combat and manual labour could give you. Glazed over blue ice were shimmering with tears as they stared into nothingness while he murmured sweet nothings to calm his son. An intricate braid with leather bands woven into it reached past his shoulders, little wood chips were still caught in it. The sides and back of his head shaved down to the skin were covered in tribal-esque tattoos that did not quite cover the scar on the side of his skull. It confused Athelstan how facial features could be so soft and so sharp at the same time. Ragnar Lothbrok was attractive and Athelstan was definitely  _ not _ developing a crush. Nope, he was too old for that, he told himself.

Lothbrok cleared his throat. “I..uhm..sorry”, he apologised, resolving to hold his son’s hand as they sat down across from Athelstan. (He really had to keep himself from reeling back as now cerulean blue eyes looked directly at him, then quickly turned away.)

“Bjorn...attacked a student. No one was hurt, but it was a little concerning”, Athelstan explained, his gaze flickering down to Bjorn’s hands that were closely inspecting his father’s fingers. The man took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry”, he started. “We have had some”, he waved his left hand in the air (the right was occupied by Bjorn) as if trying to find the right word, “issues.” Athelstan had to blink when Ragnar’s eyes started to glaze over again. “We’re figuring it out, but I fear that Bjorn had to take the worst of it”, he said, looking down at their hands that were still intertwined. Athelstan leaned back in his chair. He had not been prepared for this. 

“As I said. Nothing happened, but I do expect him to formally apologize. Perhaps even in writing. If you want to draw any consequences that is up to you”, Athelstan said, trying to keep a professional atmosphere, but still noting the way Ragnar’s whole body went rigid when he had uttered the word  _ consequences _ . Bjorn’s hands stilled for a moment.

“I will do that. I’m very sorry, I really did not mean to do that”, he said quietly, picking up his fidgeting again as soon as he was done talking. Despite the tension in the air, Athelstan managed a smile.

“Thank you, Bjorn. I know that you are normally a very good student”, he said, hoping that the conversation was done. 

“Can I go back to class?”, Bjorn asked, looking at his teacher. With a nod and a hum, Athelstan sent him off to class. “Love you, dad!”, the boy called as he left. “Love you too, kjære!”, Ragnar answered, a small grin on his lips. He turned his attention to Athelstan once they were alone.

“Thank you so much for not suspending him or anything like that”, he said, rubbing his face with his hands in a nervous manner. Mentally, Athelstan had already compiled a list of this man’s nervous ticks he had noticed throughout the meeting, and he feared that it would only get longer. 

“Of course. Bjorn’s a sweet boy. It was one slip up, it happens”, Athelstan tried to calm him. His attempt earned him a sarcastic chuckle.

“Seems to be a lot of slip ups lately”, Ragnar said humorlessly. “They’re getting therapy. I promise, they won’t  _ slip up _ again. I...we’re just dealing with a lot right now.” His words came out too quick, almost slurred together and it  _ worried _ Athelstan. 

“No worries. Really. They are children, this is all part of their development”, he answered, hoping to calm Ragnar down. Letting out a sigh, he nodded.

“Ja, jeg vet. I know”, he answered. “Still. Thank you, but I really need to leave for work again.” Sometimes Athelstan really forgot that people had different jobs. Especially when it came to someone who had five sons. (There was a girlfriend there, Athelstan was sure. He had seen her quite often.) They said their farewells, Ragnar headed for the doors, while Athelstan went back to his class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Hva skjedde? - What happened?
> 
> Det er ok, kjære. - It's okay, dear.
> 
> Du er ok. Jeg er ok. - You are okay. I am okay.
> 
> Ja, jeg vet. - Yes, I know.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar meets his father. Floki is a good friend and Ragnar punches a bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason i talk about different kinds of resin in this chapter.....can you tell that i'll be carpenter's apprentice soon (hopefully)?
> 
> translations at the end (this is really just an excuse to practice my norwegian, kinda temtped to throw my other languages in here too...)
> 
> as always have fun :)

Ragnar breathed in deeply, welcoming the comforting smell of wood that surrounded him. After that conversation he had at his son’s school, he took the fastest way back to the carpentry he worked at. Even though he had entered through the front door that led to the customer and exhibit area and not the actual workshop, the scent of freshly cut and flamed wood lingered in the air. Floki poked his head out of the workshop when the door fell shut.

“How’s Bjorn?”, he asked, leaning over the counter that separated workspace and visitor area. Ragnar shrugged.

“He’s alright. Someone said something that reminded him of….y’know”, he answered, hiding his hands deep in the pockets of his pants so that he would not even be tempted to fidget. “They’re not gonna suspend him or anything. He just has to apologize.”

Floki watched him, as he hopped onto the counter, tapping his feet together. His constant fidgeting was not even nervousness or anxiousness, at least not that Ragnar knew of. It was just so incredibly  _ boring  _ to sit still at all times. 

“Are you okay, though?”, Floki asked, his voice quiet so that the others in the back would not hear him. Again, Ragnar only shrugged.

“Dunno”, he mumbled. “But I do know that I need something to do”, he said, climbing over the counter. He needed to feel wood under his fingers, he needed to sketch out designs, to carve them into the material. If only to forget about the world for a while.

“Yes, please! We just got a commission that is...interesting”, Floki giggled as he joined Ragnar on his way to the workshop, where three other carpenters were working already. With a concerned gaze toward Floki Ragnar grabbed a pencil, two differently sized chisels and a carving knife so that he could finish carving the box design someone had commissioned a few days ago. 

“Do I..do I wanna know?”, he asked hesitantly. “No, wait! Let me guess. Epoxy Resin?”, Ragnar whined, making a face. Floki cackled, throwing his head back in delight. “Close but no! They wanted that stinking polyurethane stuff!”, he exclaimed. Ragnar made a noise of disgust as he began working, Floki was watching his movements closely. 

“Why would anyone....epoxy is so much better”, he mumbled, his nose scrunching up at only the thought of the biting chemical smell. Floki shrugged, still giggling. 

“Well, I’ll get started on that”, he said, dancing off to gather his tools and materials. Ragnar hummed, the world around fading out as he continued to work on the piece in front of him. It really was an easy design. Some celtic knots and a  _ Triskele _ , nothing he had not done before, but it still needed to be perfect. 

“Anyone got a box cutter?”, he called, when he noticed that the pencil was too run down to sketch.

“It’s a utility knife!!”, came a loud whine from one of his coworkers, Luke. “But yes, there is a  _ utility knife  _ in the exhibit room. I think I forgot one by the mini-galley.” Ragnar grinned as he shouted his thanks back. (Honestly, he only called it a box cutter because he knew it would anger Luke. The man was very insistent on tools’ names.) A second time he hopped over the counter, because using the proper was  _ too easy _ , and walked over to the miniature viking-esque galley they had built when there had been nothing else to do. Luke was right, the tool laid on the thwart, forgotten for weeks. Just as he was making his way back, the front door opened. Putting on a friendlier face, he turned around to greet the visitor.

“Hey, how can I help—no..”, he started, his voice fading out once he realised who stood before him. Ragnar took a step back, gulping heavily to steel himself against the encounter. The man in front of him smiled, looking down at him. (How much he  _ despised  _ it when people looked down at him. He took after his mother. Maybe that's why they hated him. He had killed her, after all.) Grey eyes met his own (fading into a glazed over icy glow) and he tried to hide his laboured breathing.

“Meg sønn…”, the man greeted, extending his arms as if to hug Ragnar. He stepped back further, not able to fully control the violent flinch that came with the prospect of being touched. The man in front of him pretended not to notice, although his features hardened. He took a step towards Ragnar.

“Jeg er ikke din sønn”, he whispered, no longer being able to look the man ( _ his father) _ in the eyes. He turned his head away, cringing as the other man still stepped toward him, a hearty laugh sounding deep in his chest. Ragnar’s back hit the counter and he gasped quietly at the contact. A cold hand got hold of his chin ( _ Lagertha! Gyda!...no, a different hand)  _ and turned his head left to right, as if to inspect the tattoos on his skull.  _ (He was a child, too young to understand. A hand gently curled around his cheek. Nails digging into his skin, blood running down his face. A ringed hand coming down hard on his face, leaving marks that would never fade.)  _ With a small noise of protest Ragnar slapped the hand away and the man scoffed. He wanted to curl up and scream and cry, he was a  _ child  _ again, people looming over him. 

“Not only do you look like your mother, you’re just as stubborn”, the shadow  _ (a different shadow)  _ observed. There was anger in the deep voice, as the man caught his moving wrist in a painful hold. Ragnar’s head snapped up, coming eye to eye with his father. The man’s mouth was twisted in a deranged grin, his eyes hard and unyielding, short hair black as ebony. Ragnar let out a quiet and pained mewl, fearing the bruises that would appear on his skin tomorrow. He curled his hand into a fist, pushing back against the counter and grabbing hold of his father’s collar.

“Slipp meg”, he demanded. He kept his voice low, still he put an edge to it that had saved him many times. The man holding him cocked his head to the side curiously, still not giving way to his son’s demands. His brain short-circuited. With his free hand he threw a right hook, the impact pushing his father far enough that Ragnar was finally able to wrench his wrist out of the iron grasp.

“Leave me alone!”, he yelled, hoping to finally attract the attention of his coworkers. “Jeg hater deg så mye!” His father approached him again (with a bleeding nose, Ragnar noted with an odd satisfaction). Ragnar mustered all the force he could and pushed him away. His whole body was shaking with fear. He wanted to just  _ run _ . 

“Get the fuck out! Now!”, Floki’s voice suddenly tore through the shop. Ragnar’s heart skipped a beat (it was Floki, he did not need be afraid, he  _ did not _ ), never had he heard his friend’s voice this powerful.

“Are you fucking deaf?! Get!!”, he repeated, leaping over the counter to chase Ragnar’s father away. And then finally, after what felt like aeons to him, (and with a last look at Ragnar) the man finally left. 

Ragnar sank to his knees, his face hidden in his hands. “Faen…”, he mumbled angrily. There was shuffling next to him as he drew in a sharp breath.

“Ragnar?”, Floki asked softly. “Are you okay?” 

He lowered his hands slowly, nodding at Floki’s question. His friend made sure to keep the distance between them, and it relieved Ragnar to no end. He flexed his right hand, the skin had split when he had connected with his father’s cheekbones. Floki giggled quietly.

“Fucker deserved it”, he said, to which Ragnar could only smile and nod, thankful that Floki did not ask anymore questions. “Wanna go kickboxing today?”, Floki suggested. 

“Fuck yeah, I do”, Ragnar answered with an airy laugh and Floki grinned like a madman. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meg sønn - My son  
> Jeg er ikke din sønn - I am not your son  
> Slipp meg - Let me go  
> Jeg hater deg så mye - I hate you so much  
> Faen - Fuck
> 
> If anyone wants to come chat or anything, you can find me on instagram @ punkassviking :)
> 
> Next chapter will probably focus too much on the technicalities of boxing bc i really miss my kickboxing-gym :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan is simping. Ragnar is uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this chapter is not too boring. it does not seem important right now, i guess but i need to establish/introduce a few things for later and i really just miss my boxing-gym.
> 
> have fun!

Athelstan was a little apprehensive as he walked his niece, Elizabeth, to the kickboxing-gym. Lizzy was eight years old and, a few months ago, she had decided that she wanted to learn how to fight. Her parents, of course, had signed her up for some boxing classes, and today, Athelstan helped his sister out by taking care of her daughter. He had always been a little suspicious of martial arts as a whole and had never gotten around to busy himself with them. Lizzy still had not lost her enthusiasm for her new hobby, though.

“Maybe you can join”, she giggled as they entered the building and walked up the stairs to the gym. “You now, the big guys train next to us.” Athelstan almost choked on air.

“You fight with adults?”, he asked in disbelief. His suspicions of combat sports were ever growing. How irresponsible was this?

“No!”, Lizzy giggled. “Separate classes, but at the same time”, she clarified and Athelstan let out a relieved sigh. When they had entered the gym, Lizzy went off to the changing rooms and Athelstan joined those who looked like parents on the benches. As he let his gaze wander, he finally saw what Lizzy classified as _big guys_. A small group of women, men and andorgynous folk sat around, wrapping their hands in colourful bandages, next to them laid their shin pads, gloves and mouthguards, and Athelstan did think they were quite muscular. His eyes continued their way, his heart skipping a beat when he spotted none other than Ragnar Lothbrok. The man sat on the floor, back leaned against the wall and skin glistening with sweat. His hands were wrapped in black bandages, his gear laying next to him. He was munching down on some kind of nutrition bar, talking and laughing with three other men (one of them Athelstan could place as Rollo, but the rest were foreign to him). Not for the first time Athelstan realised how gay he truly was, as he watched Ragnar’s muscles contract and relax with every little move (the fact the has wearing a tanktop and shorts was definitely not helping Athelstan).

There was a small commotion by the changing rooms, diverting Athelstan’s attention. A mixed band of boys and girls emerged, and to his surprise he could even see a boy in a wheelchair.

“Boys!”, came a cheery voice and suddenly five boys emerged, the boy with the wheelchair under them, and tackled Ragnar Lothbrok to the floor, who had met them halfway through the gym. Two of the three men that Athelstan had seen with Ragnar before, joined the group hug that was happening on the floor. 

“Floki!”, Bjorn, as Athelstan now recognized, called happily, hugging the man that he had not seen before. Suddenly, Lizzy hurried past Athelstan and she too joined the pile. He watched with a confused smile, before someone loudly clapped their hands and the huddle dissolved as each one of them got to their feet and walked over their respective age group again. 

“Lizzy?”, Athelstan asked confused, once she was in his range. “You know Ragnar?”

She nodded. “He’s Ivar’s dad!”, the girl confirmed, smiling at the boy in the wheelchair. 

“Athelstan!”, Ragnar suddenly called out to him, his voice carrying surprise. “Why don’t you join us?” 

Athelstan wormed his way through the children, as they got into their orderly positions, a trainer giving out instructions to them. Ivar was joining the group too, his focus heavily on throwing punches and dodging them.

“Well, I’m a pacifist”, he said, leaning against a wall with Ragnar only a few feet away from him. “Not one for fighting, I’m more of a watcher”, he mumbled, his gaze unconsciously looking Ragnar up and down. The man huffed, shifting uncomfortably before someone called out to him and he left to prepare his muscles with rope skipping (for a second time, Athelstan supposed).

“Be careful”, someone giggled behind him. “He’ll kick you across the room.” The man Bjorn had called Floki danced past him, joining his friend in warming up. With everyone busy, Athelstan sat down where he was, making himself small so he would not bother anyone, and resolved to watching the adults, his niece forgotten for the moment. 

“Kickpad!”, a voice bellowed. Groups of two formed, Ragnar and Floki were a pair, one with a padded block in their hands that they leaned against their hip. With another command, kicking ensued and Athelstan almost reeled back at the force behind Ragnar’s kicks. His face was hidden behind his hands that were up in a guarding position, but he was letting out small noises that signaled his efforts. Even as they switched partners, Athelstan could not think about anything else but the way Ragnar’s body moved so swiftly when delivering kicks. 

Another command ensued (“Sparring!”) and the pairs split up for a short time to put on their gear and then came back together again. A giggle almost escaped Athelstan when he heard the small struggling noises Ragnar made as he tried to set in his mouthguard correctly. The young teacher had to admit, he did not know what sparring was, but once it started, it scared him. It was free fighting, essentially. Ragnar and Floki delivered and dodged punches with such a ferocity that Athelstan feared they would kill each other. The sounds of the shin pad colliding with skin and the boxing gloves hitting one another sent shivers down Athelstan's spine. His heart twisted in worry as Floki had taken a stable but defensive position, letting Ragnar rain down punches on his gloves, and yet he could not help himself but stare at the way the man’s shoulder and back muscles moved as he delivered his hits.

“You worried?”, Rollo suddenly said next to him. Athelstan nodded. “Ha! Floki could attack if he wants to. He’s just letting him blow some steam.” 

“It looks so...uhm, violent?”, he said, pushing the thought of how attractive it actually was aside. 

“Look at them closely”, Rollo suggested, and Athelstan ripped his gaze away from Ragnar’s back. Now he could see that the never ending flow of punches was carefully aimed at Floki’s gloves, held in front of his face. The two men seemed to trust each other, and suddenly the whole situation seemed less scary. Until Ragnar let out a small scream, abruptly turning away from Floki, and laid his upper body on the ropes of the boxing ring. In an instant, Rollo was gone and at his brother’s side, Athelstan noted the way he kept a distance between them, and Floki had slipped out of the ring and knelt in front of Ragnar, talking to him quietly. Ragnar took his gloves off and spit his mouthguard out, still leaning on the ropes. His arm came around to hold his ribcage and Athelstan frowned, wondering what had hurt him so badly. He had no time to question it, though. The one-hour-training was over and adults and kids piled into the changing rooms, when Athelstan suddenly remembered that he had a niece. He scrambled up and rushed to the changing rooms, waiting outside. 

He heard the excited chatting of the Lothbrok boys, and some cheery conversations out of the girls’ changing room. 

“Rollo, Floki. I’m fine”, Ragnar insisted, as the trio went to join the others. “Probably just pulled a muscle.”

“No offense, brother, but you literally got stabbed right there”, Rollo said before the three men disappeared. Athelstan had no time thinking about the statement. Lizzy tackled him in a hug, almost knocking him over.

“You ready to go?”, he asked her.

“Yep! I’m so hungry I could eat a bear!”, she exclaimed and the two took their leave. 

Lizzy could not stop talking about the Lothbrok family, how cool they were, how wonderful it was that Ivar could still box, and how someday, she wanted to be just as skilled as Ragnar Lothbrok. The skilled boxer and father of five refused to leave Athelstan’s head.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar and Rollo dwell in the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quickly a few things: in this chapter there is a *heavy* tw for child abuse and also some implied homophobia, please be careful  
> i am really sorry for this  
> second, here's a list to establish everyone's ages (not canon-compliant, but this way it works with what i have planned)  
> ragnar - 26  
> rollo - 32  
> siggy - 34  
> bjorn - 10  
> ubbe and hvitserk (twins) - 7  
> ivar and sigurd (twins) - 6  
> athelstan - 26  
> aslaug - 26  
> lagertha - lived to 21  
> gyda - lived to 5
> 
> have fun!

Once they had all showered and changed, Rollo had offered to drive his brother and his kids home as Floki was leaving to pick up Helga. Now as they sat in the car, the boys exhausted but happy from the exercise, the silence weighed heavy. Oh, how much both brothers hated these silences.

“You had quite some anger pent up today”, Rollo said quietly, shooting a quick glance at Ragnar before he focused his attention back on the road. Ragnar sighed as he faced the window, supporting his head on his hands.

“Our beloved father visited me at work”, he mumbled, so that his sons would not hear him. He turned to Rollo, who gripped the steering wheel tightly, staring straight ahead. 

“Did he...did he hurt you?”, he asked. The barely hidden anger did not go past Ragnar. Nervously he twisted his hands together, subconsciously rubbing his bruised wrist.

“I—no...I don’t think so? Floki scared him away”, Ragnar stuttered. He really had no idea how to answer this question, the old troubles from his childhood arising again. A sarcastic laugh came out of Rollo and Ragnar could not help but grin. If anyone could scare that man, it was Floki.

“He hurt you”, Rollo said and his tone left no room for protest. “I should have known. I should have fucking known, Ragnar. I’m so sorry. Dad kept calling. Kept asking about you, personal shit about you. I told him that you had no desire to see him and that he had absolutely no right to talk to you. I should have told you!”, Rollo rambled on. With another curse he hit the steering wheel aggressively. Ragnar flinched, turning his attention to his lap, where he was still fiddling with his hands. His brother mumbled out a quick apology.

“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known. It wasn’t your fault”, Ragnar tried to assure his brother. 

“Will we ever meet our grandfather?”, Hvitserk suddenly asked, leaning forward on his seat. Every muscle in Ragnar’s body tensed and for a moment he forgot how to breathe, his eyes unwilling to blink as unwanted images flooded his mind.

“No, bud. I don’t think so”, Rollo answered softly. Ragnar was glad for his intervention, glad that Rollo understood his worries. 

“Why not?”, Hvitserk continued to ask. Sometimes Ragnar really hated how curious kids were. He himself had been one of those kids that would always ask questions, and, in a way, he had not changed. His sons really did take after him. Still unable to form words, Rollo answered again.

“Because he hurt your d—”, he started but Ragnar cut him off with a deep sigh. “Not in front of the kids. Please. Not now, Rollo, please”, he almost begged, his voice breaking as he angrily wiped a tear away that had stubbornly escaped. 

“Okay, okay. Don’t worry”, Rollo eventually agreed and Ragnar could almost feel the regret and worry seeping out of his brother. As Ragnar recovered from the initial shock, he noticed that Rollo’s attention was somewhere else. 

“Rollo, focus on the road”, he mumbled and the other man shook his head to rid himself of his thoughts.

“Yea, yea. I just can’t stop thinking about….y’know”, Rollo mumbled, being as vague as possible. But Ragnar knew. Ragnar knew exactly what he meant, and he felt himself drifting down the same path. He was too exhausted to stop it, letting the memories crash over him like waves over a man lost at sea. 

_ “What do you think?”, Floki giggled, his legs dangling off the wall they were sitting on. “Do you like boys?” Ragnar shrugged. “Dunno. Never thought about it”, he answered. And it was true. Neither of them had ever thought about who they liked, until this morning. They had just learned about people loving the same gender, a different gender and even multiple genders. And now they were curious. (And maybe the rush of hormones that emerged with puberty  _ —  _ they were only twelve after all  _ —  _ and Ragnar’s desire for affection played a role, but no one needed to know.) _

_ “You..you want to try?”, Ragnar asked, raising a questioning eyebrow at Floki.  _

_ “Sure”, the other boy said. Under fits of giggles, the two boys carefully neared each other. Floki’s hand was suddenly gently holding Ragnar’s neck (and he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to lean into it) and Ragnar did the same. Another wave of giggles hit them, before they could feel each other's breath. Quickly, both boys bridged the gap between them, their lips touching in an awkward and experimental first kiss.  _

_ The two boys were still giggling as they parted, but yet they stayed in close proximity to each other.  _

_ “And? What do you say?”, Floki wanted to know. Ragnar shrugged again, but this time more shyly. “I think...I think I don’t really care?”, he suggested, and Floki nodded, humming in agreement. And with that their experiment was concluded, and the two boys said their farewells and headed home.  _

_ Ragnar had not even entered his home properly, when his father already towered over him. _

_ “Care to explain?”, he demanded, arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping impatiently. Ragnar swallowed thickly as he sat his schoolbag down. Rollo was not home yet and that just made the situation infinitely worse.  _

_ “Ex-explain what?”, he stuttered, fighting with himself to stand his ground and not run right back out. (In hindsight, he should have.) His father’s hand curled around his neck. It was so jarringly different from Floki’s gentle hold, that Ragnar ripped himself away from the touch. A ringed hand came down hard on his cheek and he gasped more in shock than in pain, as he felt two small streams of blood trickling down the side of his face.  _

_ “You know exactly what! You and that little boy!”, the man yelled, his face red with anger. Ragnar fought with himself not to cower away. Oh, how he wished that Rollo would come home. There was no point in explaining himself. No matter what he said, he could not win.  _

_ “I won’t have it! You will not see that boy again, and if I have to lock you in the basement, I will!” The boy knew that it was not an empty threat, and something in his brain snapped. He could not even think as he delivered a punch to his father’s face, the crack of his nose bringing a strange grin to his face. Instantly, he regretted it.  _

_ “Unnskyld, far, unnskyld!”, he tried to apologize but there was nothing he could do anymore.  _

_ A leather belt smacked across his face, leaving a bloody streak, and the boy could only raise his arms in defense, trying to hold his screams in as the assault continued. His legs shook from the pain, and eventually he collapsed to the floor, his forearms already covered in angry red welts and blood. There was no point in begging for it to stop, so the boy did not even try. He bit his lip to avoid a scream, as the belt now whipped his back. He could feel the hot blood seeping through his clothes. Just as he was sure he would black out, the assault suddenly stopped.  _

_ “Pack your shit! Out! I never want to see your face again!”, his father yelled, the belt snapping in the air once. Ragnar scrambled up, swaying on his feet as he tried to run to the room he and Rollo shared. _

_ The door shut behind him and he fell to his knees again. Unable to move and breathing heavily he could only watch as the blood ran down his arms, getting lost in the way the blood reflected his own empty eyes.  _

_ Ragnar did not know how much time had passed, but eventually the door opened again and Rollo almost tripped over him. _

_ “Ragnar, what _ — _?”, he started, interrupting himself when he saw the blood. The boy looked up at his older brother, tears were swimming in his glazed over glowing eyes, his mind not anchored in reality. _

_ “Jeg er så lei meg”, he whispered, dropping his gaze back to his bloody forearms. Rollo gently took his face into his hands. _

_ “Ragnar, we’re _ — _ ” _

“—home”, Rollo’s voice forced him back into reality. Ragnar blinked and rubbed his forearms, still bearing thin scars. “We’re home, bror”, Rollo said again, watching with a heavy heart as his brother wiped away his tears. Ragnar closed his eyes and breathed deeply, nails digging into the flesh of his forearms.

“Hjem…”, he mumbled. 

“Et trygt hjem”, Rollo whispered, and Ragnar nodded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations:  
>  Unnskyld, far, unnskyld - Apologies, father, apologies.  
> Jeg er så lei meg - I am so sorry.  
> Bror - Brother  
> Hjem - Home  
> Et trygt hjem - A safe home. 
> 
> lil fun fact: i acutally really love my dad! he's great, if ya want i can tell you a lil more about him in the notes for the next chap :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar has an unpleasant encounter. Athelstan's dog tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because the last chapter was really sad, here's a bit more light-hearted fun :)

Athelstan’s week had gone by uneventfully and quickly and now he was enjoying his friday afternoon. He had not seen Ragnar Lothbrok, except for when he dropped his kids off at school and picked them up after. There were no other incidents with the children, but Athelstan was still not happy with their behaviour as they were still awfully quiet and kept to themselves. The worry for the children however had been put aside for his friend Judith. Couple therapy seemed to make matters worse between her and her husband, and with the relationship issues, the ever-lasting grudge between Judith and her father had re-emerged. Athelstan had done his best to help, and for the moment Judith was living with his sister, away from Aethelwulf and her father. She had fallen in love with Lizzy and could not wait for her own child. 

And since everything was quite well, Athelstan’s mind was carefree as he took a walk with Atreyu. What he hadn’t expected was to see Ragnar and his children, running around the park and having a stick fight. The six of them did not seem to mind the dogs running among them, even asking their owners if it was alright to play. A strangely warm feeling overcame Athelstan and he had to smile. Wanting to watch the family, he decided he would let Atreyu loose, so that he could play with him. 

Atreyu was actually a well-behaved dog. In public, he would never just chase after others. He was always at Athelstan’s side, attention always on him. So, it did surprise Athelstan when the dog suddenly took off. As he ran after him, he became vaguely aware of the commotion that had diverted Atreyu’s point of focus. None other than Ragnar Lothbrok was in the middle of an argument with what seemed to be a middle-aged woman, holding a tiny, trembling but still loudly barking dog. Athelstan panicked as he thought Atreyu would jump at one of the two, but sighed in relief when the golden retriever sat down at a distance, seemingly watching the situation. Intrigued, Athelstan did the same. 

The Lothbrok-children stood in a huddle, holding one another’s hand as they hid behind their father. 

“Ma’am, my kids are completely fine”, Ragnar said, hands in the pocket of his black hoodie. His posture was quite relaxed, and Athelstan wondered how someone could be so calm.

“Just look at you! How can you be a good father for these children?!”, the woman screeched, as her dog continued yapping. Ragnar rolled his eyes, putting his head back and Athelstan really had to control himself not to laugh. 

“My abilities in fatherhood are none of your concern”, he said with a politely annoyed smile. The woman shook her hand, pointing her finger at Ivar, who hid his face behind Bjorn’s back. 

“Well, if my child was like  _ that _ , I would not have a child. A life like that must be horrible!”, she said. In an instant, Athelstan could see Ragnar’s entire body language change. The relaxed posture got tense and he made himself as tall as he could (which was quite impressive, Athelstan had to admit, vowing to never start a fight with that man).

“You can insult me all you want, but the moment you started talking about my sons, we’ll have a problem! My son is a quite happy boy if it weren’t for people like you who constantly question him, du jævla innavla bondeknøl!”, Ragnar retorted, barely restraining the fury in his voice. There was a moment of stunned silence, and Athelstan thought the situation was done for, but the woman swiftly stepped towards Ragnar. Athelstan thought that the man could not tense up any more, but he did, taking his hands out of his pockets as if to have them ready if things were to get physical. Athelstan was impressed that he managed to stand his ground with a stranger now barely inches away from him. 

“What did you just say to me?!”, the woman almost yelled. “We are in England, speak English, you heathen!”, she demanded loudly. Before Ragnar could say anything, Atreyu had left his spot.

“Atreyu!”, Athelstan called in horror as he stood, watching the dog as he circled around Ragnar, forcing the woman to back off. He visibly relaxed, and Athelstan recognized his dog’s thinking and silently thanked him for shadowing Ragnar.

“God, I’m so sorry”, Athelstan said as he approached. “He usually does not run off, I don’t know what happened.” Atreyu jumped up at Ragnar — the woman completely forgotten — and he bent down to ruffle the dog’s fur.

“Oh no worries, Athelstan. I like dogs”, Ragnar said, smiling at him. Athelstan’s heart skipped a beat, not knowing how to respond. It didn’t matter though, because Ragnar’s attention was now on his children. Atreyu was worming his way through the kids, getting some cuddles wherever he could. Ragnar knelt in front of Ivar, gently holding the boy’s face in his hands. 

“Are you okay, kjære?”, Athelstan heard him say quietly. Ivar nodded and leaned forward to hug his father. “I want you to know that I love you very much, and you are perfect to me and your brothers, okay?”

“I know, dad. I love you too. What did you say to her?”, the boy asked curiously and Ragnar chuckled.

“A few bad words you would do best to forget, bud. It was rude of me, so please forget it”, he said, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead before he stood again. 

“Athelstan, you have a very adorable dog”, Ragnar said, as Atreyu circled around him again. It seemed as if Atreyu’s little visit had calmed the boys a little. They were talking among themselves, a few giggles here and there as they gathered around Ivar to cheer him up. 

Athelstan smiled. “Yea, Atreyu is great. But really, that woman was completely out of line.” He stepped a little closer so that he could finally bring Atreyu back under his control. “It’s not my place, but I think you are a great father. At least from what I’ve gathered from school”, Athelstan said, securing the leash on Atreyu’s collar. Ragnar put his hands back in his hoodie pocket and smiled shyly at the grass. 

“I— uhm...thank you”, he said quietly. They stood in a comfortable silence, watching the children play. Athelstan could not avoid stealing glances at Ragnar, taking in the way the light of the evening sun outlined the shape of his face and his upright posture, admiring how his tattoos disappeared down his neck into his hoodie.

“I, uhm, I better get home to feed my cat and Atreyu”, Athelstan said after a while. Ragnar turned his head to look at him. There was a dreamy expression in his eyes, as if he had been deep in thought. 

“Sure, yeah, of course. You should do that”, he said quietly, shooting him a timid smile, which Athelstan returned. 

“Come on, Atreyu”, he said to his dog, and with one last glance he left Ragnar alone with his sons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations
> 
> du jævla innavla bondeknøl - you fucking inbred peasant 
> 
> kjære - my dear/dear one
> 
> fun fact abt my dad: his name is ulf and when i outed myself as a trans-man and asked what he would have liked to name me if i had been born a man, he said that his 'wish names' (previously for my older brother, but dear mother chose a biblical name for him) were björn, knut, ragnar and leif....neither of us had watched viking at that point, so it was really funny when I started the show :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan has a Not Very Fun experience. Ragnar is there to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually ignores the murder of crows outside my window as i am writing this*
> 
> have fun :)

After Athelstan had come home and Atreyu and Elsa had been fed, he realised that he needed to do a quick run to the grocery store. Living off of leftovers really was not the best thing for his health. That is why he found himself walking through town for a second time this evening, now with the quest to acquire food for the weekend. (He really had no desire to go out on a sunday to go grocery shopping.) Listening to music on his way to the store, Athelstan did not fully register the world around him. There had been no warning, no signs whatsoever, when someone grabbed his shoulder and roughly pushed him into an alleyway. Athelstan’s breath got knocked out of his lungs as he was pressed but against the brickwall, a hand dangerously close to his throat. 

“What—?”, he asked, confusion clouding his mind, but he was instantly cut off with a punch to his face. He groaned in pain, feeling blood dribbling down his nose, when suddenly he was released. Athelstan sank to the floor, a dizzy spell making him unable to stand.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”, a man yelled angrily. Blinking the cloudy haze away, Athelstan recognized Ragnar Lothbrok, facing off with the dark figure that had pulled him into this alleyway. There was no answer as the man charged at Ragnar, taking a far swing to throw another punch. Athelstan watched, frozen in horror, but Ragnar was more than prepared. With seemingly no effort, and more elegance than should be appropriate for a man of his muscular build, Ragnar delivered a kick to the thief’s head, standing steady on his two feet when his leg came down again. The other man stumbled back, blood trickling out of his ear. Athelstan thought the fight was over, but his blood ran cold, when his attacker pulled a knife out of his sleeve, pointing the tip at Ragnar. But, of course, Ragnar Lothbrok was full of surprises. He cackled, before he reached into his boot (military-grade combat boots, Athelstan noted) and he too pulled out a knife. To Athelstan, it seemed sharper and the blade appeared to be longer, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“What now, genius?”, Ragnar asked as the two men were facing off, pointing their knives at each other. Athelstan’s gaze shifted back and forth between the two. With a shudder he caught the glint in Ragnar’s eyes, almost  _ glowing _ bright blue. 

“Come on! Stab me!”, he challenged, bouncing on his feet. “I know you want to!” Athelstan had to admit, he was a little concerned for Ragnar’s sanity at this moment, but he could definitely draw parallels to Bjorn’s and Ivar’s temper — genetics did seem to go a long way. He was still grinning like a madman, attempting to aggravate the other man enough to attack, but he did not budge.

“Are you too scared?”, Ragnar asked in a mocking town. With one swift motion, he drew his hand back and threw the knife. To Athelstan’s relief it did not touch the man that had tried to attack him. It flew past his ear, barely missing it before it lodged into a wooden palette that was standing somewhere in the dark of the street. The knife had not missed, Athelstan realised. 

“You better run”, Ragnar suggested with another smile. There was a short moment of complete and utter stillness, before the man, who had tried to attack Athelstan, broke out into a run, sprinting past Ragnar. Once he was gone, Athelstan heard him exhale deeply, before he quickly went to retrieve his knife. Athelstan watched from his place on the floor. 

“Are you okay?”, Ragnar asked as he approached Athelstan. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, sure!”, Athelstan responded quickly, holding onto the wall for stability as he stood. “That was…..something”, he said unsure and Ragnar giggled.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Athelstan supposed it did, still it was one of the most anxiety-inducing experiences he had ever had. 

“You’re shaking”, Ragnar noted, a concerned expression on his face. Athelstan had not even noticed, but yes, he was unsteady on his feet and his heart was beating way too fast for his liking. “I, uhm..I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone”, Ragnar admitted.

“I don’t feel comfortable being alone, right now”, Athelstan whispered, the reality of the situation just now setting in. That guy had carried a knife, for fuck’s sake. He could have died, they both could have died.

“That’s...that’s perfectly understandable”, Ragnar said. “Perfectly understandable. You can stay at our place?”, he suggested, if a little awkwardly, rubbing his neck as he twirled the knife in his hands. Athelstan’s eyes fell to the sharp object, anxiety building in him again, but Ragnar noticed right away.

“Oh, oh, faen. Sorry! Should’ve thought about that, should have thought about that”, he mumbled as he bent down to slide the knife back into his boot. Athelstan felt a lot calmer with the knife out of his sight. “That would actually be great. To stay at your place until I’m a little calmer”, he said, attempting a smile. “I just need to call my sister so that she’ll go check up on Atreyu and Elsa.”

“Atreyu is your dog and Elsa is….?”

“My cat.”

“Your cat, of course”, Ragnar smiled at him as he started walking. Athelstan followed, looking back over his shoulder, a weird feeling in his gut. Probably just paranoia, he reasoned with himself, but still he could not help it. He had to admit that knowing Ragnar by his side did really help, and he could feel the tension leaving his body as they started walking. Athelstan was not only glad to leave this place, he felt safe knowing that Ragnar was completely able and ready to fight anyone who dared to try him. 

On their way, Athelstan learned that Ragnar was a silent man. He only talked once to remind Athelstan to call his sister (and he was so surprised that he did that immediately) and once more to make sure Athelstan was okay when he had started to sway on his feet. Athelstan had confirmed that he was, in fact, okay, just a little shaken and that had been the end of their conversation. He did not mind, though. The silence between the two men was a comfortable one, and Athelstan was glad that he was not walking alone through the dusk. 

Ragnar lived in a rather calm part of town, not very far from his own home, Athelstan realised. The family lived on a street full of townhouses that shared a communal garden space, but unlike Athelstan’s family, the people living here did not own their houses. He guessed that some people preferred to have the prospect of mobility. The houses looked friendly, with white walls and frosted glass doors. Some people had put up very cliched decor on the outside and it did bring a small smile to Athelstan’s face. Ragnar’s voice pulled him out of his observations.

“The boys are still a little hyper”, he warned Athelstan jokingly as he fidgeted with his keys. 

“I think I can deal”, Athelstan said in return, chuckling quietly at the realisation how strange this situation was. Here he was, visiting the home of his pupils. there were probably not many teachers that could say that of themselves. 

“Boys! I’m home! And I brought company”, Ragnar called once he had opened the door and stepped into the narrow hallway. Athelstan could not stifle his laugh when he heard multiple pairs of feet running, several shouts of the word  _ Dad _ and Ragnar’s tiny whispered  _ oh god  _ as he was crushed in a huddle of five boys. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, the only norwegian word in this is faen (=fuck)
> 
> and y'all might be thinking....switching languages should not be that hard, but like..IT IS. when i did my exchange year in the usa it was SO hard for me to stick to one language! i was cursing in my native language, and just slipping random words and idioms from my native tongue into english. when i stumbled on english words/sentence i would often times end up speaking four languages in one sentence and no one had a clue what was going, it was a little funny ngl :D


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan continues to simp and unwillingly discovers a darker part of Ragnar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like athelstan is very relatable in this chapter....bc honestly, same :D
> 
> have fun and have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night :)

“Alright, alright! Let us in”, Ragnar laughed, trying to free himself from his sons as Athelstan let out a hearty giggle

“Us?”, a little boy asked as he clung to his father’s thigh. He peeked past Ragnar and Athelstan knelt down and smiled, hoping to seem friendly. Ragnar turned around — as well as he could with three children hanging off his legs and arms, which resulted in him turning his upper body.

“Athelstan! These are my sons. You know Bjorn and Ubbe. And these guys are Ivar, Hvitserk and Sigurd”, he introduced, pointing at each of them. Athelstan returned their shy little waves and then the boys were running off into the house. 

“Come on in”, Ragnar said, making a motion to invite Athelstan in. He complied, taking off his shoes as he stood in the hallway. Curiously, he watched as Ragnar untied his boots and carefully took them off, taking out the knife and hiding it in a cupboard. 

“You have a lot of weapons”, Athelstan noted, as he caught a glimpse of the baseball bat by the door. Ragnar just shrugged.

“Yeah, well, you get careful after a while”, he answered, following his sons into the living room. Athelstan had a weird feeling that he had not even seen half of the collection but he kept quiet and followed Ragnar and his sons. 

He had to say, the interior was beautiful. Different from his own, it was rustic. Kept in earthy tones, wood and plants dominating the decorations. 

“Make yourself at home”, Ragnar said, ripping him out of his admirations. 

“Thank you. The house is lovely”, Athelstan mumbled, putting his hands in his pockets. He felt out of place, to be honest. It was almost as if he was infiltrating into this little family bubble the Lothbroks had created here, and he had no right to be here.

“Athelstan, sit down”, Ragnar told him, rolling his eyes. “I invited you. No need to be shy. You want some tea?”

Athelstan looked at him, momentarily speechless. Watching the way he leaned against the kitchen counter, observing his sons so that they would not break anything, Athelstan imagined. Ivar and Hvitserk were throwing what seemed to be grapes at each other, trying to catch them with their mouths. He cleared his throat. 

“Tea would be...lovely”, he smiled, imitating Ragnar by leaning against one of the cupboards, which he had assumed to be a fridge. He mumbled his gratitude when Ragnar handed him a steaming cup of tea and together they watched the children. 

“Yes! We got it”, Ivar squealed happily. Hvitserk jumped into the air with joy, munching happily on a grape.

“I’m so proud of you, boys!”, Ragnar laughed, walking over as Hvitserk quickly approached to jump-hug him. (Athelstan had to admit, he was surprised how affectionate this family was.) “Catch!”, Ivar yelled, throwing a grape at his father, who successfully caught it in his mouth. The boys cheered, and even Bjorn had to laugh. 

“Can we go outside and play?”, Sigurd asked from where he was sprawled across the sofa. His siblings piped up with interest. Ragnar made a motion with his head, saying something in a foreign language that Athelstan could not quite hear and the boys ran out the door. 

“Grapes? Really?”, Athelstan chuckled. Ragnar returned to his original place at the counter, his eyes focused into nothingness. Athelstan tried not to stare, but it was almost impossible to take his eyes off him. His heart did strange things whenever he saw him, and Athelstan could not quite place the feeling. 

“Ivar said they have better, uhm — hvordan sier du? — ah! Aerodynamics”, Ragnar grinned. 

“I suppose so”, Athelstan laughed. “You’re not English, right?”, he asked hoping not to be invasive. 

“No. I am Norwegian”, Ragnar said. “That’s why I sometimes just...don’t know English.” Athelstan watched him stretch his arms over his head, trying not to focus  _ too much _ on the skin that was revealed by his hoodie sliding up the tiniest bit. Black lines of a tattoo were attempting to cover a seemingly large scar, and Athelstan had to wonder what that tattoo was, how big that scar was and what the story behind it was. But then Ragnar was done stretching and the hoodie fell back down again. Athelstan needed to sit down. With a heavy sigh, he fell into one of the chairs at the dinner table.

“Same here. And I was born in the UK. The English language crawled out of the deepest pits of hell”, Athelstan chuckled, watching as Ragnar chuckled and turned his back towards him to take care of what he presumed to be the remnants of a chaotic dinner.

“Are you hungry?”, Ragnar asked, probably remembering that he had just picked Athelstan off the street. He thought for a second. The encounter in that alleyway had really diminished his appetite, and his stomach was still feeling uneasy.

“No, but thank you”, he said, twisting his tea cup in his hands. 

“If you are staying the night, you will have to sleep on the sofa”, Ragnar informed, his back still to Athelstan. (And for some reason he could  _ not  _ take his eyes off. It really was a problem.)

“Can I stay the night?”, he asked in wonder. Athelstan had barely met the man, and yet he was here, in his house and most likely spending the night. 

“Of course. If you want. You teach two of my sons, I have high hopes that you won’t try to murder us”, Ragnar said jokingly, but Athelstan thought that there was a little too much worry in his voice, as if looking for confirmation. He really did not like that.

“I promise, I won’t murder anyone”, he said solemnly, earning a quiet chuckle from Ragnar. “Thank you, again. I really appreciate it.”

“We help those who need it”, Ragnar simply said, although it sounded like he was smiling. (Athelstan could not see, because that way too attractive-in-a-hoodie-back was still turned to him.)

“You must have had wonderful parents, seeing the way you care for your sons...and me, I guess”, Athelstan wondered. He instantly regretted the assumptions. Ragnar’s busy hands stilled and his whole posture changed. He tensed, as if someone had just hit him. Athelstan’s heart ached at the sight, and he did not (again) fully register the world around him. 

“Quite...quite the opposite, actually”, Ragnar mumbled. Athelstan could see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the counter with force. 

“Oh God, I am so sorry”, Athelstan apologised. “A lot of parents leave their mark by yelling, huh?” There was a humorless laugh from Ragnar, and Athelstan realised that he had just made the situation worse.

“My father…”, he started, his voice faltering. Ragnar cleared his throat and started his sentence again, still not looking at Athelstan. “My father preferred more...corporeal punishment”, he said dryly. Athelstan swallowed thickly. It was as if a cold hand had gripped his heart, and all he could see was a young, terrified Ragnar. Suddenly, his advanced fighting skills seemed to make a lot of sense. 

Athelstan was about to apologize, offer words of comfort, just say  _ something _ when a quiet voice piped up.

“Dad, what does that mean?”, Sigurd asked and a heavy silence fell over the room, as the five boys stared at their father’s tense posture (they had seen it too often, they knew it wasn’t good) and Athelstan looked back and forth between them, cursing himself for having caused the situation. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar finds himself confiding in Athelstan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm putting a quick tw for implied child abuse?? idk, just to be safe
> 
> translations at the end :)  
> (and thank you so much for all your lovely comments!)

Ragnar felt like his muscles would snap from how tense he was. Why had he not noticed his sons coming inside? Why did they have to hear that? He slowly turned around, quickly wiping his eyes clear of the tears that were threatening to spill. 

“Isn’t that like...physical?”, Bjorn asked carefully. Ragnar nodded, letting out a breath he did not know he was holding. 

“I..I think we need to have a talk”, he said, sitting down on the floor. “No, Athelstan, you stay. You might have a concussion and I will not leave you alone with that”, he added when he caught the teacher making a motion as if to leave. 

“I’m sorry for bringing it up”, Athelstan mumbled quietly. Ragnar put his head in his hands. “Not your fault”, he said. “This talk was long overdue.” 

He watched as his sons slowly sat on the ground, inching towards him. Ragnar heard Athelstan shift in his seat, contemplating how he was going to approach this. Sigurd crawled forward and planted himself firmly in his lap. Ragnar wrapped his arms around his son and smiled sadly.

“Bjorn’s right”, he started. “Corporeal means bodily.” The way his heart was hammering, he feared it might leap out of his ribcage. He swallowed thickly. Really, he never wanted to have this conversation, but he knew that it had been coming. The boys had asked more often than usual why they had never seen their grandfather. Ragnar had tried to dodge the question as much as he could, but, even though his boys were still young, it always led to a certain kind of tension between them. (It made him doubt his abilities as a father more than ever, but he chose to ignore that for now.) 

“There is a reason that you guys have never seen your grandpa”, he said, trying to explain his relationship to his father as child-friendly as possible.

“He was really mean to you and Rollo, right?”, Ubbe asked, leaning back against Bjorn’s chest for comfort. Ragnar nodded.

“Yes. He hurt your uncle and me really badly, and that’s why we don’t talk to him”, he confirmed. There were so many thoughts floating around in his head, it was making him dizzy. He wanted to say so many more things, but something inside him —the part that was still a child — refused to cooperate. Forcing himself to focus on the way Sigurd was inspecting his fingers, he tried to organise his thoughts.

“That’s why you never yell at us”, Bjorn said, more to himself than to anyone in the room. “Because you hated it when you were our age.”

Ragnar smiled. “Bjorn, you are too smart. You are correct, but I also do not yell because I love you and believe that you can think for yourself if I present reasonable explanations”, he explained. Behind him, Athelstan let out an amused huff. 

“And now”, he said, kissing Sigurd’s forehead, “it is late, and you boys should go to bed.” It might not have been a very smooth way to end the conversation Ragnar admitted, but the topic was now open for discussion and his boys knew that. If they wanted to talk about it more, they knew they could. And to be fair, it really was getting late, and Ivar was already yawning. 

“Come on, boys”, he said, standing up with Sigurd in his arms. Ragnar adjusted him so that he could carry the boy with one arm as Hvitserk took his hand. Ivar climbed onto Bjorn’s back, while Ubbe was holding on to his older brother’s arm. 

Ragnar made sure to hug each of his sons extra long that night, telling them once again that he loved them with everything in his heart and soul. 

When he came back downstairs, Athelstan was still sitting in the chair, not having moved an inch. His gaze was focused on the teacup that was still in front of him. Silently, Ragnar sat down across from him, taking the stranger in his house in for the first time. 

Athelstan had brown wavy hair that was complemented by the dark scruff on his cheek. His skin was pale, and looked so soft that Ragnar had a half a mind to reach out and run a hand down his cheek, wanting to inspect the softer features closer. There was a calmness about Athelstan that radiated through the whole room. Ragnar found himself longing for that sense of calm, wanting to keep Athelstan in his company. His mind went astray, wondering how those soft hands — hands that were not exposed to daily manual labour and fighting — would feel on his own, roughened skin. He flinched, a phantom pain coursing through the thin scars on his forearms and his back as he involuntarily remembered his father’s teachings. Trying to keep himself from spiralling, he grabbed his upper arm tightly, nails digging into the flesh and muscle of his bicep. 

“You didn’t deserve that, Ragnar ”, Athelstan suddenly said. “No child deserves that.” Ragnar’s head shot up to look at Athelstan, but he still would not shift his focus from the cup. (The way his name rolled off the teacher’s tongue was strangely pleasant, it sounded so  _ soft _ .)

“I —”, Ragnar began, not really knowing what to say. He  _ knew _ that. Rationally, anyways. But that was the thing about the human mind — sometimes it was irrational. Floki had told him countless times how  _ wrong _ it had been. Lagertha and Aslaug had assured him that this was  _ not  _ how children were supposed to be treated. And yet, all his life he had tried to rationalize it, repeating his father’s words in his head, internalizing the reasons why he  _ had _ deserved it. It was a struggle Rollo and he both faced. They had suffered differently, but they were brothers and they took on each other’s pain.

“Don’t start with that crap of how he still loved you or how you deserved it”, Athelstan’s voice ripped through his thoughts. 

“He loved us when it was convenient for him”, Ragnar mumbled. “He loved my brother for his strength and physical abilities, and he loved me when it came down to academic achievements.” He had no idea why he was telling Athelstan all of this. He had this aura of trust, Ragnar guessed — or maybe he was just desperate to spill his soul to someone. 

“That’s not love”, Athelstan said quietly, finally raising his eyes to look at Ragnar, who was sure that his heart just missed a beat. He averted his gaze and shrugged.

“You were a smart kid?”, Athelstan asked. 

“Didn’t have much of a choice”, Ragnar answered and the teacher inhaled sharply. “Sorry, Athelstan, I should not be dumping this on you, when you have your own issues”, he apologized. He did feel bad for putting all of this emotional baggage on Athelstan, but he also desperately wanted this conversation to be over. Athelstan went to say something, but Ragnar pretended to not notice as he continued talking. 

“Uansett…I’m tired. I’ll bring you some bedding, alright?”, he asked and Athelstan gave an affirming nod. 

Ragnar was glad that he had some pillows and blankets in the storage closet underneath the staircase. Careful not to touch the knives and axes he had stored in there (he had forged them himself over the past weeks  _ just in case _ ) he retrieved two pillows and a blanket, bringing them over to Athelstan.

“I hope it’s not too uncomfortable”, he told him. “If you need anything, just call me. I’m upstairs.”

“Thank you again, really. I would have been too scared to sleep in my own house”, Athelstan said softly, firmly holding the bedding against his chest. (Maybe, just maybe, Ragnar wanted someone to hug him like Athelstan hugged the pillows.)

“It’s no problem, really. God natt, Athelstan. Sov godt”, Ragnar said, forcing a smile. 

“I, uhm...good night?”, Athelstan chuckled hesitantly and Ragnar nodded, this time with a real smile. 

As Athelstan made himself comfortable on the sofa, Ragnar went upstairs. He stood there for a while, just staring into the darkness. Eventually, when everything was quiet downstairs, he sat down, leaning his back against the wall that separated his sons’ rooms and closed his eyes, silently praying that at least his sons would have a nightmare-less sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uansett - Anyways
> 
> God natt. - Good night.
> 
> Sov godt- Sleep well.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan notices that there is a lot more to Ragnar than ever thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, I hope y'all have a lovely day and enjoy this chapter :)

Athelstan awoke not because he had an unpleasant slumber but because he felt like someone was moving around the house. Which was quite concerning, considering that he lived alone. Carefully, he opened his eyes, panic setting in when he did not recognize his surroundings. He blinked, racking his mind for information. 

Oh, yeah right. Someone had tried to rob him, Ragnar had saved him and then had been so kind to let him stay here. He relaxed a little, still wondering who was moving around the house in the middle of the night. 

A shadow fell on the floor next to where he was sleeping, cast by the bright light of the moon that shone in through a glass door. The shadow moved almost silently and as it came into Athelstan’s field of vision, he could recognize the shadow as Ragnar. For a moment, he was impressed that Ragnar was able to move so quietly. As he remembered the revelation that Ragnar had grown up in an abusive household, that impression turned into sadness. Athelstan supposed that silence was a useful skill in that situation. As Ragnar moved past him, he pretended to be asleep, opening his eyes again when he was sure that the man’s back was turned toward him. Athelstan propped himself up on his elbows, curiously watching as Ragnar slid the glass door open and sat down on the ground outside. His back was leaned against the glass and Athelstan could see him fiddling with something — somehow, he was intrigued. 

There was no point in going back to sleep now. Once he was awake, he would never fall back asleep. Slowly and carefully, so that he would wake the boys or attract Ragnar’s attention, he stood from his make-shift bed on the sofa. Athelstan shrugged his jacket back on — the nights were already cold, even if the daytime still brought pleasant temperatures. On quiet feet he made his way outside.

“Athelstan”, Ragnar greeted him in a soft voice, when Athelstan was not even out of the doorway. “Don’t act so surprised, I am aware of my surroundings. You don’t have to be luskete.” Athelstan did not know what that last word meant — he spoke perfect Latin but not Norwegian. 

“I thought I’d try”, he whispered, sitting down next to Ragnar. He made sure to keep a distance between them. They did not know each other that well and Athelstan was sure that, after their less-than-pleasant conversation, Ragnar was not too keen on talking to him. 

“Can’t sleep as well?”, Ragnar asked, much to Athelstan’s surprise, looking up at the night sky. Athelstan followed his gaze, fascinated by how clearly he could see the moon and stars.

“I’m a light sleeper”, he shrugged. His attention was diverted by Ragnar moving ever so slightly next to him, he was slightly hunched over, hands close to his face. In the dark, Athelstan could not see very well, but then a lighter clicked on and he could see the cigarette-like shape in his mouth. As soon as it burned, the strong smell of cannabis made itself known and Athelstan scrunched up his nose.

“Are you getting high?”, Athelstan asked, not even trying to hide his shock. Ragnar was a good father to his sons, but would that not include  _ not _ taking drugs? Ragnar chuckled as he inhaled, taking a moment to exhale the smoke — Athelstan was thankful that he blew it away from him.

“This is CBD”, he explained. Athelstan’s confusion only grew and he opened his mouth to ask a question, but Ragnar kept talking as if he had noticed his confusion.

“It won’t get you high. And don’t panic — it’s medically issued”, he clarified, much to Athelstan’s relief. 

“Sorry, I just grew up very….protected”, Athelstan mumbled. Ragnar hummed, and Athelstan was sure it had been unnecessary to clarify. “May I ask what it helps?”

Ragnar let his head fall back, taking another drag. Athelstan had the desire to paint, or at least photograph, the scene in front of him. The softly illuminated outline of Ragnar’s face shape, the curve of his neck as his head laid back and the ever so slight arch of his back, the smoke he exhaled into the soft moonlight — it deserved to be captured in a never-fading picture. Just now Athelstan noticed that Ragnar was sitting outside in a t-shirt. In the dim light he could make out some of the muscles of his arms and even more lines that implicated tattoos or scars, but the moon was not strong enough for Athelstan to  _ really _ see. 

“Helps with insomnia and angst og smerte”, he mumbled. Once again, Athelstan did not have to vocally express his confusion. “Sorry...I — it’s just easier to say it in another language. It helps with anxiety and pain, too”, Ragnar added, before Athelstan could say anything. And it baffled him; it truly did. He had half a mind to wrap Ragnar in a bone-crushing hug. 

“I’m sorry”, Athelstan said. He did genuinely feel sorry for Ragnar; there was so much under the surface. So much hidden that so few people had seen and Athelstan wanted to know it all. “Are you not cold?”, he asked. The chill of the night was really settling into his bones. He could only imagine what Ragnar felt like. But the man only shrugged.

“I like it”, he said. “It doesn’t get as cold here.”

“My parents were really strict”, Athelstan suddenly said. He did not know why he felt the need to tell Ragnar something about himself, but it was only fair. Ragnar did not answer, letting him talk freely. “I mean, it does not compare to you, but I grew up so estranged from reality that it was quite a shock when I went to university. I didn’t even know what alcohol was”, Athelstan said, chuckling as he remembered his own naivety. Ragnar let out a breath that could be interpreted as a laugh.

“You’re a Christian, right?”, he asked and Athelstan hummed in agreement, his hand unconsciously curling around the cross necklace beneath his clothes. “A little priest”, Ragnar chuckled. “I’m a shameless heathen. Still believe in the old norse gods”, he said. The first rays of sunshine were starting to paint the sky light blue and then red, as the night faded away. 

“You’re a good guy, Athelstan”, Ragnar said. He stood up, stretching with a quiet groan. Athelstan watched him, a small smile on his lips. A spark of hope sat deep in his soul — maybe this could turn out to be a new friendship. Ragnar walked past him, stopping and leaning in the doorway for a moment. 

“Coffee?”, he asked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations :)
> 
> luskete - sneaky
> 
> angst og smerter - anxiety and pain


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar and Athelstan have strange common acquaintance. A friendship might ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy! how are y'alls?
> 
> i just wanna say thank you for everyone who follows this story, it really makes an author's whole day !!!
> 
> and with that! please enjoy :)

“Coffee would be lovely”, Athelstan said. The smile he gave Ragnar made his heart flutter. He gave a small nod and then went inside, extra careful not to wake his sons at this ungodly hour. Making coffee at the break of dawn had become a kind of ritual to Ragnar. Most nights he never fell asleep, and when he did with the help of CBD he was plagued by nightmares. He could not remember a time where he had slept well on his own, he thought as he prepared two mugs and waited for the water to boil. In his childhood, Rollo and Floki had been there. As a teenager, Lagertha would help him fall asleep. In adulthood, Aslaug would be with him through the night. Now, though? Now he was all alone, staying awake, watching over his sons’ dreams, hoping that they were deeply engulfed in the darkness of the night. 

Ragnar shook his head as if to rid himself of the thought and then returned outside to Athelstan, who sat there unmoved, staring at the sunrise. Wordlessly, Ragnar handed him the steaming cup and sat down in his previous spot. He pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them. 

“It’s so...peaceful”, Athelstan mumbled, taking a sip of his steaming hot coffee. A warm feeling welled up in Ragnar as Athelstan spoke and he was not sure if it was because of the man’s soothing voice or because of the hot liquid running down his throat. It was a problem for later though, he decided. 

“Isn’t it?”, Ragnar really did not know what to say. It was strange, sharing this personal morning ritual with someone, especially someone he did not really know. And yet, somehow, he did not mind. Not really at least. Ragnar had some trouble adjusting to another body sitting next to him, but this aura of calmness and peacefulness that Athelstan radiated was very welcome. It would seem strange that in the light of recent events Athelstan was still so collected, but Ragnar knew that the reality of certain things sometimes set in very late. It was one of the reasons why he had offered Athelstan to stay with him for a while.

“It is different with someone else here”, Ragnar whispered as he watched the first curtains being pulled open by other residents. The sun rays almost shone into the communal garden.

“Is that a bad thing?”, Athelstan asked. Ragnar could feel his eyes on him, but he refused to turn his head; refused to look at him. 

“Haven’t decided yet”, he shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. Athelstan chuckled at that. They sat in silence, watching the sky change colours as the sun rose and night once more gave way to another day. 

The first families were starting to rise, and more and more people opened their blinds. Ragnar was not blind for their disapproving glances once they had noticed that he was outside. He laughed bitterly, raising his cup at them in a mock greeting. To his surprise Athelstan noticed. 

“They don’t like you?”, he asked, to which Ragnar nodded. He chugged down his now cold coffee and leaned his head back against the glass door behind him. It was still pleasantly cold from the night, and it did wonders to soothe the headache he felt coming on. Social interactions really just weren’t his greatest strength. 

“You could say that”, he said. Really, it was putting it lightly. They despised him. It was one of the reasons why he was only ever out here at night until dawn — because no one else was awake. Aslaug had been loved by everyone, and that’s why they had tolerated Ragnar at her side, but he had noticed the unamused looks he had been given. Because how could  _ he _ ever be a father? To them, his entire appearance was outrageous. Tattooed from head to toe, long hair with a shaved undercut and a scarred face. Not to mention his limited social skills and impatience. Surprisingly, their kids loved his sons — and him. Ragnar thought it was because their way of playing was a little rougher, and they were bound to get dirty. Other kids loved it, and sometimes he still followed his boys outside to play with them and sometimes other children joined. Ragnar just pretended that he did not notice the parents’ stares or that he did not hear their crude comments. It was something he did not like to think about. And so, he discarded these thoughts, filing them away for later. Athelstan did not need to know. 

“Is that...that is Aelle!”, Athelstan suddenly exclaimed. He did still keep his voice down so as to not attract unwanted attention. Ragnar followed his gaze, seeing the corpulent man that definitely had some sort of personal vendetta against him. He did not know why.

“You know him?”, Ragnar asked curiously and Athelstan nodded. Seeing Aelle really made Ragnar want to curl up in a corner and just wither away. The man just reminded him too much of his own father. Not in the way he looked, no. Ragnar’s father had been a tall, muscular man — he had owned a farm in Norway after all. No, the resemblances laid in the harsh words he spoke. It was in the intonation. It was in the venom that dripped off his tongue with every word he spoke. Ragnar shuddered involuntarily. 

“Yup”, Athelstan nodded. “That is my best friend’s father.”

“That guy has  _ children _ ?”, Ragnar asked, completely baffled. He would not wish this man on his worst enemy. Actually, scratch that. He would, he definitely would. 

“They’re not exactly talking anymore”, Athelstan admitted. “I take it that he does not like you?” Ragnar had to suppress the laugh that was rising inside him.

“Oh, he hates me. I’m sure he’d”, he stopped to find the right word in English, “ _ murder _ me if it wasn’t illegal.” 

“Well...do you wanna go inside before he sees us?”, Athelstan asked and Ragnar was incredibly thankful for it. Together they got up, quickly making their way inside. The boys still seemed to be sleeping and Ragnar let them. They did not have any plans for the day, so why not give them the rest they needed?

Just like yesterday, Ragnar and Athelstan stood next to each other, leaning against the kitchen counter. They stood a little too close for Ragnar’s liking, but he tried to ignore his pulse going a little too fast. Honestly, he did not know if it actually was the proximity or the fact that there was a man in his house that he had known on a more personal level for merely a day. A little awkwardly he cleared his throat. 

“Atreyu’s probably missing you”, he said, chuckling nervously when he realised what he had said. “Oh no, that sounds like I want to kick you out. Please stay as long as you want!”, he added in a rush, hoping he had not been too rude. Athelstan laughed.

“You’re right. Atreyu’s probably really worried”, he said. “I should probably get going”, he admitted. Ragnar nodded and hummed in confirmation and Athelstan made his way into the hallway to get ready to leave. Quickly, Ragnar grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled his phone number down.

“Athelstan!”, he whisper-yelled, still being aware that the children were sleeping upstairs. Athelstan finished putting on his shoes and looked at him expectantly. 

“I know, you think you’re fine now”, Ragnar started, “but believe me, some things need time to settle in your brain. And when they do, it all crashes and burns”, he explained. He handed Athelstan the little note. “If you feel yourself starting to crash, just call me. Anytime, anywhere. If you need anything.”

Athelstan stared at the slip of paper, at a loss for words. “I — uhm, thank you. That is very nice of you”, he smiled. Ragnar shrugged, not really knowing what to say.

“Get home safe”, he said once Athelstan stood in the doorframe ready to go.

“I will. Thank you for everything”, he called, waving as he left. As soon as Ragnar had closed the door, he leaned against it and sank to the floor, his head in his hands. With trembling hands, he pulled out his phone, impatiently waiting for his brother to pick up. After what felt like eternity, there finally was an answer.

“Rollo”, Ragnar said, not even letting his brother talk. “Vi har en problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation
> 
> Vi har en problem. - We have a problem. 
> 
> also, i hope this story is not progressing too slowly for y'alls....i just have a lot of thing that need to go in here lol :'D


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar makes some progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all have a lovely weekend! <3
> 
> translations at the end

“Are you okay?”, Rollo asked, panic threatening to close his throat. “Ragnar! What is the problem?”, he asked again when his brother did not answer right away. There was a deep breath at the other end of the line.

“I’m okay. I’m okay”, Ragnar said quietly. His voice was shaky as he talked, and it worried Rollo. “I just...Jeg må snakke med deg.”

“Of course. I’ll be quick”, Rollo assured his brother. There was a relieved sigh from Ragnar and then he hung up the phone. 

“Rollo, everything okay?”, Siggy asked, concerned. Rollo dragged a hand through his long hair. “It’s Ragnar. He says he’s fine, but he does not sound like it”, he mumbled, going over to give Siggy a hug. “We should call Floki and Helga and then go over. He said he needs to talk.” Siggy gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and nodded.

In no time, they had gotten ready and called Floki. Fortunately, they did not live far away and so, in a matter of minutes, The four were all piled into Siggy’s car as she drove at a nearly illegally high speed to save time. It was barely half past nine when they arrived at Ragnar’s house. 

Frantically, Rollo knocked on the door. There were voices inside, and for just a second Rollo’s heart stopped. Were they too late? Again? A weight dropped from his shoulders when he recognized the voices as his nephews and his brother. A moment later the door opened and Ragnar stood in front of him. Rollo would have to lie if he said that it did not take everything in him to stop himself from hugging his brother. Next to him, Floki made an undignified noise, most likely feeling the same way. Rollo was about to greet him, when Ragnar did something unexpected. Something the brothers (Floki included) had not done since they were children.

Rollo’s breath caught in his throat as Ragnar lifted his right hand to place it above his heart and Rollo followed suit. His brother curled his hand into a tight fist, taking a deep breath before he took his hand from his heart and held it out towards Rollo. With a smile, Rollo laid his own hand against his brother’s. Their fingers intertwined and for a long moment, they just stood there, their attention focused on their hands. When they parted, Ragnar turned to Floki. The two men repeated the action, and Rollo was sure that he could see a tear running down Floki’s cheek. It must have been a happy tear, judging by the gleeful smile on his face. Rollo was still in utter disbelief. This was the first time he had been allowed to touch his brother in the past month or so (Rollo had refused to keep track of time on this topic, it would just hurt too much). 

“Rollo! Floki”, Bjorn called excitedly once he had spied them from the kitchen table. The five boys came running, attacking the four visitors with hugs. 

“Let people come into the house first before you attack them!”, Ragnar chuckled, stepping back so that his visitors could free themselves from the children and step in. 

“Ragnar, what is going on?”, Rollo asked quietly, once they were all inside. Floki detached himself from Bjorn and approached them so that he could listen in. “You said you needed to talk.” Rollo followed Ragnar’s gaze as he silently watched his children, not answering the question

Thankfully, Helga and Siggy recognized the unspoken concerns. They waved the boys over. “Hey, how about we go out and have a special breakfast?”, Helga asked with a smile. Rollo and Ragnar both had to suppress a laugh at the happy sigh Floki gave when he heard Helga’s voice. “Exactly! You made it through a week of school, you boys deserve a special treat!", Siggy chimed in, smiling down at the boys. Rollo was sure his heart would overflow with love for that woman. Things had not always been easy and smooth in their relationship, but they had dealt with it like adults (which Rollo was extremely thankful for) and now they could not have a happier relationship. Bjorn seemed to be a little suspicious, but at the mention of food his brothers were up and running and so he too obliged. 

"Thank you", Ragnar called after Helga and Siggy as they left with the kids. When the door closed, he laid down on the floor. Rollo and Floki sat down next to him. 

"Tell me, what's the problem?", Rollo asked. He was dying to know. It had been making him anxious the whole drive. His brother never had the average problem, like not having enough flour for pancakes on a sunday morning. No, Ragnar's problems, from an early age on, could be deadly. Rollo had yet to know the whole story that led to this mess because Ragnar refused to tell him or Floki. For their own safety, he would always say and Rollo always insisted that it was bullshit. 

Ragnar's voice was muffled by his arms laying across his face as he answered. "They have a mark on Athelstan", he said quietly. Rollo swore that his brother's voice was close to breaking. "They have a fucking mark on him…."

"The teacher?", Floki asked in confusion. 

"They...as in the ones that—", Rollo started. Both got cut off by Ragnar. He sat up, not facing them and Rollo wished that his brother would just, for once, let his emotions out.

"Yes, Athelstan as in my sons' teacher and yes  _ They _ as in jævla drittsekkene that killed Lagertha, Gyda and Aslaug!", Ragnar almost yelled and this time, his voice cracked. Rollo and Floki shared a look, waiting for the moment that Ragnar would break down. It never came, but there was a certain tension in the air that was all too familiar to Rollo. It was the calm before the storm, as most people would put it. Rollo would say it was just the last moments of defiance before the breaking point.

"Ragnar, tell us who they are. Why are they on Athelstan?", Rollo asked. He had so many question and he feared that none of them would be answered.

"I cannot tell you who they are — Athelstan knows even less. But someone...someone attacked him and that face! Fuck, I  _ knew _ that face!", Ragnar explained. He sounded angry. Not angry at Rollo or Floki, but rather at the world or even himself. 

"What do they want from you? From Athelstan?", Floki asked, inching the tiniest bit closer to Ragnar. The man shrugged. "If I knew...this would never have happened. They always keep asking about numbers. I dont know anything about any numbers", Ragnar whispered. The tension in the room was steadily increasing and if Rollo was honest, he was scared of the breaking point. 

"That scar on your neck looks like numbers", Floki mumbled, his hand reaching out to point at them. Rollo got closer to Ragnar's neck. He had never looked at the scars so attentively. Remembering the time he had treated the wound, Ragnar had needed more mental than physical healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Jeg må snakker med deg - I need to talk to you.
> 
> jævla drittsekkene - those fucking assholes


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar reaches a breaking point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all beautiful people :)
> 
> some more Rollo POV bc I need a good sibling relationship :D
> 
> can you spot the gestures that re-occurr in wildly different circumstanced in every chapter??:'D

"The...the numbers on my neck?", Ragnar whispered, putting a tentative hand on his neck as he turned around to face Rollo and Floki. 

"You don't remember?", Rollo asked, painfully reminded of the past as Ragnar stared at him. His brother's eyes were shining blue, filled with so much confusion and fear that Rollo could not help but see the child he had been. 

"Jeg prøver å glemme", Ragnar shrugged, his fingers still feeling around the scar on his neck. Rollo understood, he really did. He tried to forget too, but it was too deeply ingrained in his head, plaguing his dreams relentlessly. 

_ "Where is that boy?!", their father yelled, pacing up and down the room. "He should've been home hours ago!" Someone who did not know Rollo's father could have mistaken his words for concern, but Rollo knew exactly what it was. He tried to not roll his eyes. Rollo was sure that Ragnar meant no disrespect, he had most likely just gotten caught up in what he was doing and lost track of time.  _

_ "I'll look for him", Rollo offered. After his father had gestured dismissively, he got up from his seat and put on shoes and a coat. It was winter and cold — not as cold as the Norwegian winters had been but Rollo had no desire to get sick and it had snowed a considerable amount. _

_ Once he was out of the door, he made his way to school. Ragnar was part of several clubs in school (Rollo always forgot what they were) and though he was not happy with all of them, it was a welcome excuse for the boy to spend time away from home — it really was the only excuse their father tolerated. Sometimes, these clubs held meetings late into the evening, but today there had been no such meeting and Ragnar was still not home, even four hours after the club meeting had ended. Naturally, Rollo was worried. It was not like Ragnar to just leave (the boy had always liked to defy authorities, but their father had never been one of them).  _

_ Rollo had just reached the halfway point on his way, when he noticed the drops of blood in the snow. He frowned. This had not been his plan, but he could not just ignore that. Maybe someone needed his help; and so he followed the trace left by the blood.  _

_ Rollo turned into a small street, and quiet whimpers echoed off the brick walls that surrounded him. _

_ "Hello?", Rollo called into the otherwise silent street. "Is anyone there?" The whimpers instantly stopped. There was some shuffling, as Rollo slowly walked further into the street. He was thankful for the streetlights, that illuminated the small and scrawny figure that crept out of a corner.  _

_ "Ragnar?", Rollo asked softly, inching closer.  _

_ "Rollo!", the figure exclaimed, voice trembling and filled with fear. He ran towards Rollo, who caught his brother in a tight hug. Ragnar's legs would have given out if it wasn't for Rollo holding him. _

_ "It's okay, it's okay", Rollo whispered, stroking Ragnar's hair to calm him as the boy trembled in his arms.  _

_ "Rollo, I- I think I killed someone", he said frantically. Rollo froze, freeing Ragnar of the embrace he was in and holding him at arm length. His younger brother stared at him out of bright blue eyes, brimming with tears. They had that glazed over, glowing not-quite-there look, and Rollo had to take a few deep breaths to process what he had just said. _

_ "What did you say?", Rollo asked, just to make sure he had heard right. His hands held Ragnar's face, feeling the tear tracks on his cheeks and the blood on his neck. Rollo almost reeled back. Blood in his neck? That was not supposed to be there. _

_ "Are you hurt? What happened?", he asked. Ragnar's eyes blinked nervously, he tried to turn his head to look behind him, but Rollo kept him in place. The boy swallowed thickly, stuttering as he tried to explain. _

_ "Ragnar! Look at me. It's okay, I'm here", Rollo reassured him. Ragnar nodded and curled his fingers around Rollo's wrists, holding on so tight as if he was holding on for dear life. It scared Rollo. _

_ "What happened? Talk to me", he demanded, trying to keep his tone firm but still soft. Ragnar breathed deeply and nodded. _

_ "I- there were...they killed someone and they...they saw me", he whispered and shuddered. His nails dug into Rollo's skin. He remained silent, hoping his brother would continue the story without any more encouragements. "And I ran. But they followed and they were so much faster", he mumbled, closing his eyes as a tear escaped him. "They...they pushed me against a wall and I...I- they- one of them had a knife at my neck and I was  _ so _ scared", Ragnar said, looking up at Rollo. His heart broke at the haunted expression in his eyes. "He whispered something about coordinates and I- I don't know what happened. I don't know, I'm so sorry but I did something and suddenly the knife was in his throat and he was bleeding. And I ran, I'm so sorry, Rollo", he sobbed and his legs trembled too much to hold him up. Rollo quickly caught his brother and held him tight. _

_ "Don't worry, Ragnar", he said, as his brother cried into his chest. "It's going to be alright, don't worry." _

Rollo shook his head to rid himself of the memory. He watched as Ragnar still had a hand at his neck, his unblinking eyes glued to the floor as he was undoubtedly thinking about the same thing. Only Floki was somewhat out of the loop. Really, Rollo's and Floki's paths had not crossed until a few days later. The whole scenario had been filed away when Rollo had found his bleeding and completely traumatised brother in their room, after their father had learned about Ragnar's and Floki's experimental kiss. He had just scooped Ragnar up in his arms and (after a small physical fight with their father) had run around the streets, not knowing where to go when he had run into Floki and his family. They had been kind enough to take them in and as Rollo and Ragnar were slowly recovering, neither of them had said a word about Ragnar's deadly encounter. 

"You can't just forget, Ragnar", Rollo eventually whispered. He wanted to reach out and hold his face in his hands like he had so many years ago, but he held back, not wanting to frighten his brother.

"Jeg vet, jeg vet", Ragnar mumbled barely audible. Ever so slightly, he started rocking back and forth, his hand slowly leaving his neck.

"Jeg kan ikke gjøre dette lenger", he said, his voice hoarse and trembling. Rollo's breath hitched. What had been bound to happen for a long time, finally happened. Ragnar had finally reached his breaking point. It started slowly, a simple tear running down his face, gradually turning into a constant flow until eventually he collapsed forward into Rollo's and Floki's arms. They held him tightly, and even though both knew that it had been coming for weeks, it still hurt. 

Ragnar was a silent cryer. His entire body would shake, but he made no sound, except for the odd shaky breath that forced its way out of his throat. And somehow, to Rollo, it was the worst way of crying. In a way, he was glad that Ragnar finally let his feelings loose. He had never given himself time to grieve, always plunging into a piece of work in Helga's forge, the carpentry he worked at, or giving every last bit he had to his sons, never even taking so much as a minute for himself. (Save for the double kickboxing session he plunged himself into at Rollo's gym while his sons were at therapy, but in a way it was just another form of work.) Yes, Rollo was glad that Ragnar finally broke down, but he hated it because he could do nothing, except hold him and tell him it was going to be okay. 

"It won't be okay, Rollo", Ragnar said shakily, still held tightly by Floki and Rollo (and, by all the gods, Rollo's heart was leaping with joy that his brother let himself be held) and still crying silently. "It won't be okay until they're all dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Jeg prøver å glemme. - I try to forget.
> 
> Jeg vet, jeg vet. - I know, I know.
> 
> Jeg kan ikke gjøre dette lenger. - I can't do this anymore.
> 
> (like no one cares but im making progress on me being trans and finding a new name??? started out with a list of 117, and now I have 5 left :))


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan really does not know what to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so i think i might have some ideas for more modern au vikings short-stories/one-shots????
> 
> ANYWAY....enjoy :)

Athelstan could not get Ragnar out of his mind. Granted, he had only left the man’s house a few hours ago, but the short conversations they had had, stuck with Athelstan. If he was being honest, it was not only the conversations he had liked. Ragnar was also quite pleasant to look at and, to him at least, an enigma he desperately wanted to solve. Athelstan had been rendered speechless when Ragnar had given him his phone number, telling him to call if he needed anything. They had not really known each other — they still did not — and yet Ragnar had been more than ready to help him. Really, Athelstan needed to think about something else, or he feared he might fall deeply in love with Ragnar. And that is how he found himself at lunch — or breakfast? — with Judith at a small and local restaurant. 

“Athelstan!”, Judith exclaimed, mocking offense as she pointed her fork at him. “You’re not even listening!” She pouted, before she stole a chip from his plate in revenge. 

“I’m so sorry, Judith”, Athelstan apologized. “My mind is elsewhere.” Truly, he had hoped that spending time with Judith would get his mind off of Ragnar, but instead he found himself thinking about the man even more. Athelstan really tried to keep himself from developing a crush, Ragnar had said that the family had issues. He sure as hell would not have time for a new relationship (and he had a girlfriend anyway, even though she seemed not to be home at the moment) and he was most definitely straight, seeing as he had five kids. 

“As I was saying, Athelstan”, Judith continued, “Aethelwulf and I broke up.” Athelstan choked on the water he was drinking. It had been long coming, their relationship had been nothing but fight and shout and tears, but both had really tried to hold on and for a moment it seemed as if they were fixing things. Especially with little Alfred so close to coming into this earth, Athelstan was glad that Judith and his sister got along so well so that she had a somewhat stable support system in Athelstan and his sister. 

“I really want to say that’s wonderful, because I have a very strong dislike for Aethelwulf but I’m trying to be diplomatic”, Athelstan said once he had stopped coughing. Judith waved dismissively. 

“If I wasn’t pregnant I’d be celebrating with some champagne”, she chuckled, leaning closer to Athelstan. “Would not want that bastard to raise  _ my _ son.” Athelstan gave an affirmative nod, stealing a chip right off Judith’s plate. Payback’s a bitch. Well, at least until she poked his hand with her fork and he stuck a defiant tongue out at her. 

“So, Athelstan, what’s been going on in that mind of yours?”, she asked. Athelstan swore, one day he would get whiplash from the way Judith was always jumping around conversation topics. He sighed deeply, lazily dragging a hand through his dark hair.

“Okay, well, there’s this guy”, he mumbled. Judith stared at him with wide eyes, a grin forming on her face as she reached over to hold Athelstan’s hands. 

“Tell me more!”, she demanded, her voice barely controlled at room volume, excited like a child on their birthday. Athelstan grinned at her.

“He’s really beautiful. Looks like an absolute badass — and he can definitely be one — but he is actually such a sweetheart”, Athelstan said dreamily. He still had trouble to unify those pieces of Ragnar in his head. On one hand, he was the man that seemed to be a hardened martial artist and could throw a knife with close precision, and on the other hand, he was a loving father of five children, a survivor of abuse himself and still good at heart, ready to help anyone who needed it. Even years after being exposed to the real world, Athelstan had trouble understanding that not everything was black and white, and Ragnar was just one more example of that.

“But”, Athelstan went on, “he’s straight, and in a relationship anyway.” Judith raised a questioning eyebrow at him. 

“You sure about that? Who’s your Prince Charming?”, she asked, cocking her head to the side like a curious child. Athelstan wanted to tell her that she would not know him anyway, but remembering that Aelle was practically Ragnar’s neighbour, he reconsidered. 

“Ragnar Lothbrok?”, he mumbled quietly, the words sounding more like a question. Now it was Judith’s term to choke on water. She spluttered, her mouth hanging open for a second. 

“Okay, okay”, she began, closing her eyes for a moment to calm down. “Two things, love. First of all, I would not be so sure about him being straight. The dude wears purple and yellow laces. Secondly, stay the fuck away from him!”, Judith said, her voice dangerously low. 

“Why?”, Athelstan asked. He was confused to no end. He had been confused a lot recently, and he wished people would just  _ say _ things without him having to guess. Judith looked at him like he had completely lost it. 

“You don’t know?”, she whisper-yelled. Athelstan shook his head. “Damn! You really live under a rock, huh? They say he killed his girlfriend! And a few years before that his daughter and ex-girlfriend! The dude tried to off himself after, but apparently remembered that he had more children and barely made it”, Judith explained to him. Athelstan was taken aback. It could not be true. Ragnar was not a killer — it just was not like him. He trusted Judith on the fact that the girlfriend — Aslaug, he remembered — was dead. It would explain some of the issues they had. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. Ragnar was tough on the outside, and he would kill for his children, but he was a gentle soul. Otherwise Atreyu and Lizzy would not have taken a liking to him. But then again, there had been that slightly insane and murderous glint in his eyes back in that alleyway. Athelstan shook his head. Ragnar would never. 

“Well, they are only rumours”, Athelstan said, trying to shrug it off. “You should see the way he is with his sons. That’s not what a murderer looks like.” Judith made a face at him.

“You know that murderous intentions are not always obvious from the get-go, right? Jeez, watch some true crime”, she tried to joke and then her voice became soft. “See, Athelstan, you are an adult. If you still want to associate with him, it is your choice and I will not stop you. I just want you to be aware of the risks”, she said, a gentle smile on her face as she once again took Athelstan’s hand into hers. 

“If you decided that he’s what you want, then go for it! I’m rooting for you, but please be safe, okay?”, Judith said firmly. Athelstan nodded. 

“Judith, I love you”, he smiled, “and I am happy that you are concerned for me, but you watch too many crime shows. I’ve seen that man for a few years, he could never kill someone”, Athelstan said firmly. Judith smiled at him, as if to say that she would trust his judgement and Athelstan was satisfied. Still, the rumours had been imprinted into his thought process now, and the more he thought about that knife that had been thrown and could have so surely killed that stranger, he wondered if there would be another piece of Ragnar he would have to try to fit into a picture.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mondays are not Ragnar's thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we got some more drama and i think in a few chapters we will get into the big drama :D
> 
> and thank you so much for so many hits/kudos/comments :)

On monday morning — in true monday fashion — Ragnar found himself in a really uncomfortable position. He meant that in the most literal sense. Lodged halfway in a wall and somehow his upper body weirdly beneath the floorboards, trying to have at least some leverage with his legs, he was trying to fix an electrical circuit. 

“I am really the only one here that knows what a wire is?”, he asked loudly, but the sound of different battery-powered tools drowned out his voice. Ragnar had forbidden them to use anything connected to an electric circuit, just in case because he had no ambitions in being electrocuted. It was a mystery to him how none of his co-workers had ever learned to fix electrics. 

Especially since this error in the circuit seemed to be easy to fix. He just had to solder two pieces of a wire back together and things should be good to go. A groan escaped him as he tried to reach the wire at the back of the small space. Once he had finally stretched his arm far enough he was able to grab the wire, without completely falling into the crawlspace. Ragnar did not get any further as he was roughly yanked out of his precarious position by his legs. He yelped in shock, trying to hold onto something to fight the unpleasant disturbance. An iron grip on his right ankle pulled him further and he kicked his legs back, trying to twist his body around so that he could see who was grabbing him. His attempts were quickly undermined when his left leg got caught too, and after what felt like an eternity to him, Ragnar was finally pulled away from the crawlspace. He could not even be glad about escaping the position, as he quickly drew his legs closer to his body once they were free again. Ragnar sat there breathing heavily, eyes trying to adjust to the different lighting. Someone forced him to his feet by the collar of his shirt and then he was face to face with his attacker. Ragnar could barely withhold an eye-roll. How was it possible that he had managed to avoid his father for fourteen years and now, in the span of barely a week, he had been forced to see him twice. 

“What do you want from me?”, he hissed, looking up at stone-grey eyes. The hands released his shirt and sneaked upwards to gently hold his face. Ragnar’s breath became laboured. He felt every muscle in him going rigid, frozen in fear. He could not even blink. One wrong move and he would end up with a broken neck. Nails dug into his skin, and he forced himself to stay silent. 

“I want you to stop cuddling up to that teacher-boy.” The whisper was too close to his ear. Ragnar could feel the hot breath on his skin and he wanted so desperately to claw at the spot; wanted to rip off his own skin. He remained rigid; paralysed by fear. 

“How do you — ?”, he began asking, but was instantly cut off by his father’s hands gripping his jaw so tightly that he was sure he would bruise. 

“Don’t think you are not watched”, the man in front of him said slowly. Ragnar swallowed thickly. Someone had seen him and Athelstan sitting outside. Someone had seen and someone had been unable to keep their mouth shut. And now Athelstan had been pulled even deeper into the mess that was Ragnar’s life. He never wanted Athelstan to feel like this. The little priest did not deserve this. Ragnar had just tried to help Athelstan, but really he had been the reason that the teacher had been attacked in the first place. He could not allow Athelstan to consciously be involved in all of this. 

“He has nothing to do with — “, he once again started, but again he was not allowed to finish his sentence.

“Let him go!”, Rollo’s voice suddenly boomed through the room. Ragnar flinched violently at the sudden change in volume. His father shoved him away with such force that he lost his footing and fell to the floor. (Why did that man have to be  _ so much _ taller?) Rollo took on a protective stance between Ragnar and their father. He was shouting, spouting angry words, trying to defend his brother but Ragnar could only hear the ringing in his ears as he tried to process the situation. One sentence came to him clear as day. 

“If it wasn’t for him, your mother would still be alive!”, their father yelled, pointing his finger at Ragnar. By now, an audience of his colleagues had gathered and he could feel their eyes on him. Rollo went silent for a heartbeat, his heavy and angry breathing was too loud in Ragnar’s ears.

“It is not his fault!”, Rollo yelled back. “He never asked to be born!” Ragnar was thankful for his brother, truly, but to him Rollo was a liar. He did not register Floki crouching down next to him, and he had no idea how Rollo eventually managed to force their father out. All he could think about was what could have been if he had died instead of their mother. How much happier his father would have been, how much better Rollo’s life could have been. But he just  _ had _ to live.

Ragnar only realised how badly he was slipping when he was suddenly gasping for air. His hand flew up to his throat, as if trying to pry away the invisible hands of panic that were constricting his breath. 

“Ragnar, look at me”, Rollo said quietly. Ragnar nodded, looking up at his brother as he was still fighting for air. Floki and Rollo were holding his hands, the warmth was a blessing to his unusually cold fingers. 

“Breathe with me, okay?”, Rollo asked and again he nodded. He tried his hardest to copy Rollo’s breathing pattern as his brother and Floki kept talking to him with calm voices. It was as if they were trying to anchor him in the present and he had to admit that it worked. Ragnar could not perfectly copy Rollo but he did manage to regain control of his breathing again and after a few deep breaths, he was able to focus on his surroundings again. 

“Rollo, I’m so — “, he started and for a third time today he was cut off. Was no one letting him finish his sentences today?   
“No, Ragnar!”, Rollo said firmly. “Don’t give me that bullshit.” Ragnar could see the tears that were threatening to spill from Rollo’s eyes. He wanted to apologise, he felt like he had to. His brother had endured so much pain just because of him. He really was not worth it. 

“Ragnar, please, shut up”, Rollo suddenly said. Ragnar made a face when he realised he must have thought out loud. “I have made my choices, and my choices are not your fault, okay?” Ragnar nodded, leaning his head against Rollo’s shoulder, holding Floki’s hand a little tighter for more warmth and tried to erase the guilt from his mind. They had had this conversation time and time again. It would always start with Ragnar apologising and then Rollo would assure him that he had nothing to be sorry for. Ragnar closed his eyes, thankful for the warmth Rollo and Floki provided as he desperately tried to find truth in Rollo’s words. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan reconsiders his stance on combat sports

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone remember that scene were ragnar teaches athelstan how to fight? yea thats basically it....
> 
> have fun!

Athelstan felt conflicted as he, once again, accompanied Lizzy to her kickboxing lessons. Somehow he desperately wanted to see Ragnar again, but there was an underlying fear in that desire. A fear caused by rumours Judith had told him. He had first told her he would not go this week, but Judith had teased him and when she had said that she would go on her own with Lizzy, he objected. She was so far along in her pregnancy that Athelstan really did not want her to go alone, in case something happened. 

When Lizzy took off to the changing rooms, Athelstan and Judith sat down on the benches that were already occupied by several parents wanting to supervise their kids during their training. Almost instantly Athelstan saw Ragnar. Just like last week, he seemed to already have completed a training session before Athelstan and Judith had come in. Ragnar was laughing, joking with Rollo and the man that Athelsan could recognize as Floki, while he was doing some sort of muscle stretching. Yoga? Gymnastics? Athelstan was not really sure what exactly he was doing, but it was impressive anyway. Judith followed his gaze, raising a suggestive eyebrow when she saw what he was looking at. She opened her mouth to make an inappropriate comment, Athelstan supposed, but just like last week, a commotion emerged when the five Lothbrok boys entered the gym. 

“Dad!”

“Rollo!”

“Floki!”

Their excited yells filled the gym and Athelstan watched with a smile as they knocked Ragnar off balance, piling up on him on the floor. Floki and Rollo once again joined the huddle. Lizzy had just exited the changing rooms, flurrying past Athelstan to greet her friends. Somehow Athelstan really could not wrap his head around the fact that Lizzy had made friends with Ivar, and Ragnar seemed to have somehow adopted her — at least for the training sessions. Ragnar whispered something into Lizzy's ear, and she giggled, nodding her head.

“Athelstan!”, she called as she ran towards him again. “You should join today!” Athelstan let out a laugh and shook his head. 

“Come on, Athelstan”, Judith chimed in. “You’re already wearing sweatpants.” The Lothbrok boys grinned at him and even Ragnar, Rollo and Floki were looking at him expectantly. Peer pressure. What an awful but effective way to influence people. Athelstan threw his head back and groaned. 

“Okay, fine! Fine. I’ll join”, he finally conceded. The gym erupted into cheers, and with that children and adults separated into their respective groups again. 

“What a perfect chance to see how much of a killer he truly is, huh?”, Judith told him jokingly and Athelstan just had to roll his eyes. 

“If I get murdered today it is a hundred percent your fault, Judith”, he retorted as he took off his shoes. Athelstan quickly walked over to the adult group, momentarily a little lost before Rollo gave him some practice gear.

“Athelstan, you’re with Ragnar”, Rollo told him. “He’ll explain everything to you.” Athelstan swallowed and nodded. Of course he had been paired with Ragnar. It was not that he did not want to be close to him, but what he had seen so far from the man’s skills and strength, he was a little worried.

“Don’t be scared, I’ll go easy on you”, Ragnar grinned at him, as he grabbed a kick-pad to hold against his thigh, so that Athelstan could kick against it. He listened carefully as Ragnar explained to him. Make a small step, twist your hip, kick with your shins, protect your face. Seemed easy enough, he supposed. He kicked.

“Good technique”, Ragnar commented. “Now with a little more force.” Athelstan nodded, drawing his leg back to kick again. Ragnar effortlessly absorbed the kick.

“Come on, I know you got some aggression buried”, he grinned at him. “You’re not gonna hurt me.” Athelstan really was not so sure about that, he was worried that he would bring up some unwanted memories. But then again, Ragnar seemed to do this regularly with more advanced partners. 

“Alright”, Athelstan mumbled. He took a deep breath, putting all the strength he could muster into the kick. Ragnar’s thigh was still steadily absorbing the kick, but the tiniest of tremors ran through his muscles and Athelstan felt a weird sensation of pride.

“Yes! Very good!”, Ragnar exclaimed enthusiastically. They repeated the action a few times until it was time to switch. Athelstan had to admit, he was a little scared once Ragnar had shown him how to correctly hold the kick-pad. 

“No worries, Athelstan. I’ll be careful”, he said. Athelstan had no choice but to trust him. And, to his surprise, Ragnar was true to his word. There was force behind his kicks, but not enough to hurt Athelstan. The kicks came in faster intervals than what Athelstan had seen the last time, so he supposed that Ragnar took the opportunity to train his speed instead. 

When they were done, Ragnar quickly ran him through different punching techniques that he quickly picked up on. Once they had practiced those, Rollo sent them into a sparring session. Again, Athelstan was overcome by an almost ridiculous amount of fear at the prospect of having to fight Ragnar.

If it was true that he was a heartless killer, he seemed to make an exception for Athelstan. For the most part, it was Athelstan's turn to attack, while Ragnar would dodge, catch his leg or throw a careful defensive punch back. Athelstan was actually quite at ease. He would have never thought that he could have fun during combat sports. And maybe it was just the fact that he had been partnered with Ragnar, but he really did not want this to end. It was exhausting to no end, but it was  _ good _ .

Athelstan’s ease, however, faded when Rollo spoke up again.

“Everyone up for a little bit of grappling and wrestling?”, he asked and was met with affirming growls. Athelstan swallowed and turned to Ragnar. He was breathing heavily as he took off his boxing gloves. His skin was glistening with sweat but his blue eyes were clear and focused. He shot a smile at Athelstan as he lifted up his shirt to wipe some of the moisture off his forehead. Athelstan really could not help himself. He found that gesture more attractive than he should. 

“Alright, Athelstan”, Ragnar said. “Time to get close up.” 

“Let’s go”, he replied, taking his gloves off as well. Again, Ragnar explained the basic techniques to him, demonstrating a few of the movements to him. Athelstan was not really sure if he understood everything but somehow he was desperate to start. And so they did. 

Ragnar had quickly tackled him to the floor, and Athelstan was still thrown off by the strength he possessed. But Athelstan himself was not weak. He just needed to get comfortable with the skin-on-skin contact — it was doing things to his heartbeat that were definitely not normal. Ragnar apparently had not expected Athelstan to take the initiative. He let out a surprised gasp, when Athelstan wrenched out of his grip and wrestled him to the floor. Really, the position they ended up in should not have happened, but Athelstan did not completely recall all of the techniques. And so, he had Ragnar pinned underneath him, holding his wrists down on either side of his head. For a split second they were face to face. Athelstan was almost sure he could see a flash of panic in Ragnar’s eyes as he took in a shaky breath. He hesitated for a heartbeat. That was exactly the moment Ragnar needed to regain control and Athelstan ended up in a choke-hold. 

“Never hesitate”, he whispered in his ear and a strange shiver ran down Athelstan’s spine. Ragnar was holding him firmly, his forearm wrapped around Athelstan’s throat, but he was not restricting his breathing in any way. He was holding him in such a way that Athelstan had no idea how to escape, and so he tapped Ragnar’s forearm twice, tapping out and conceding in the fight. Ragnar let go immediately and backed away. Athelstan could hear him inhale sharply and as he turned around he could see him holding his ribcage like he had a week ago.

“You’re a fast learner”, Ragnar smiled at him.

“Thank you”, Athelstan replied, trying to catch his breath. He would have never expected that martial arts were this exhausting. As he stared at Ragnar he was sure that he would not have the heart to kill anyone. He had been so careful not to hurt Athelstan. But then again, they were in public and Athelstan was sure that Ragnar had a not-so-small collection of weapons at home, and there was no doubt in Athelstan’s mind that he knew how to use them. And so, the question was still stuck in his head. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan experiences his first panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my modern-au ragnar is heavily tattooed, just bc i think tattoos make you like a million times more badass/attractive :'D
> 
> hope y'all have a wonderful day/night/morning

Athelstan swore he had never been this exhausted in his life as he laid in bed, unable to sleep. Atreyu was peacefully snoring next to him, but somehow he could not find rest. The mattress was uncomfortable, no matter how he laid on it and the storm that was raging outside of his window felt like gunshots in his head. Thunder cracked outside and Athelstan sat up with a start. He felt strange, everything was strange. As if he was not really there, as if something was out of place. Something in him told him, this was not right. There was definitely something wrong but he could not figure out what. Was that really thunder or was there someone sneaking around the kitchen?

Shivering, Athelstan stood up to check on his suspicions. He did not dare to turn the lights on, for fear of startling intruders. Lightning struck, and for a moment the kitchen was bright as day but Athelstan still could not see. There were too many shadows caused by the sudden flash of light. A terrible  _ crack  _ made Athelstan flinch and fall to the floor. It was probably just a tree struck by lightning, he reasoned with himself, but it was no use. 

He felt like he could not breathe. The walls were closing in on him and, oh God, that shadow over there. Was that not the man that had tried to mug him just a few days ago? How was it possible that he was here? No, no. It could not be. Just a trick of the mind, Athelstan rationalised. But he could rationalise as much as he wanted, it was useless. The sensation of a hand dangerously close to his throat. The flash of the blade of a knife. Panic built in his chest and with a start he stood on shaking legs, frantically searching for his phone. It was hard to control his shaking hands enough to dial the number, but eventually he managed. 

“Athelstan!”, Ragnar whisper-yelled after he had answered the phone. “Are you okay?” Athelstan exhaled shakily.

“I- I don’t know”, he gasped. “I feel like someone’s here, but...but there is no one and, fuck, I can’t breathe..I—”

“You’re having a panic attack, Athelstan”, Ragnar said calmly. “Do you want me to come over?”, he asked. Athelstan looked out his window. Guilt nagged at him because Ragnar would have to go out into the storm, but on the other hand Athelstan was not sure if he could deal with this alone. 

“Please”, he whispered into the phone. His breath was still laboured, he was sure that some invisible force was trying to choke him.

“Stay with me on the phone, okay?”, Ragnar asked. Athelstan wanted to laugh at his tone of voice. It was exactly the same tone he used to talk to crying children — it was very calming. Athelstan nodded before he remembered that Ragnar could not see him. 

“I, uhm, yeah”, he choked out. There was a moment of silence and then the sounds of the storm rang through the phone, along with Ragnar’s voice. He kept talking, asking questions that Athelstan would answer, but he did not recall any of them. He was not sure how much time had passed, but eventually Ragnar told him through the phone that he had arrived, and at the same moment there was a knock on the door. On unsteady feet, Athelstan rushed to the door. 

A soaking wet and panting Ragnar stood there, phone in hand. He smiled at Athelstan. 

“Hey, I’m here”, he said quietly. “You’re alright, okay?” Athelstan nodded his head.

“I just..I feel like someone’s trying to choke me”, he mumbled. Ragnar hummed, slipping inside. He kicked his shoes off and sat down on the floor, patting the spot in front of him.

“Sit down, Athelstan”, he said, and as helpless as Athelstan felt, he complied. “Feel your throat”, Ragnar instructed. “Feel that there is nothing there, okay?” Athelstan copied the motion as Ragnar moved his own hand to his throat. He was surprised to find that it was reassuring to feel that there was nothing trying to hinder his breath. Ragnar smiled at him.

“Count with me and follow my breathing”, he said. “Four in through the nose.” They breathed in, counting together. “Hold for seven.” They counted. “Eight out through the mouth. They exhaled, counting together. Ragnar repeated the pattern a few times, Athelstan following along. Eventually his breath returned to normal and the two men sat in silence for a few moments. 

“Thank you”, Athelstan whispered, smiling into his lap. 

“Of course”, Ragnar replied, wiping a raindrop from his nose. Athelstan was suddenly very aware of the fact that Ragnar had mostly likely sprinted through the still raging storm and was still wearing his soaking wet clothes. (Athelstan found that the storm seemed way less intense now, but he was convinced that the actual severity had not changed. He was just calmer now.)

“You’re soaking wet”, Athelstan stated the obvious, earning a chuckle from Ragnar. “Do you wanna take a shower and maybe steal some dry clothes?”, he offered. Ragnar seemed to contemplate. 

“That would be wonderful...but will you be okay on your own?”, he asked, seeming genuinely concerned. Athelstan nodded his affirmation.

“Yes, I’m fine now thanks to you. Don’t want you getting sick”, he smiled. “Bathroom is on the right”, he pointed. “Towels are right there and one room over you can just look through some clothes to see what fits”, Athelstan explained. 

Ragnar nodded his head and mumbled a thanks. He stood — Athelstan only now noticed how much the man was shivering — and scurried over to where Athelstan had pointed, trying to leave as little of a trace as possible. 

Athelstan’s eyes followed him until he was out of sight. He was wide awake now, as if the exhaustion had just left with the panic. The patter of the rain on the roof and on the windows seemed almost calming to Athelstan now, and the cracking of thunder was not unbearably loud anymore. 

Once he heard the shower running, Athelstan finally stood up. His legs were tingling from sitting on the floor for so long, and he needed a few moments to feel secure in his ability to walk. Atreyu had awoken from his slumber and was now pacing around Athelstan, as if trying to signal something to him. 

“What is it, buddy?”, Athelstan asked softly, and Atreyu wagged his tail. The golden retriever barked once before he walked a few steps towards the bedroom and then came back. Suspiciously, Athelstan followed the dog.

They walked past Athelstan’s bedroom, continuing on to where he kept his clothes. (Really, the house was far too big for one person but he did not have the heart to sell it.) He heard soft distressed meows, Elsa had somehow gotten in trouble. Atreyu barged into the room, and Athelstan froze up. If in shock or in panic, he did not know. Elsa had gotten tangled up in a net that Athelstan had hung up as a means to store random things that did not have a place (including blankets and clothes that Elsa liked to hide in), but that wasn’t what rendered him unable to move. It was more the fact that Ragnar was trying to free her from her predicament — and that he was doing it shirtless. There was a shirt lying on the floor — he probably did not have the chance to put it on before Elsa was in need of his help. Athelstan could not stop staring. The way the muscles moved beneath the bare skin was almost hypnotising. Tattoos in the forms of runes, ravens and other symbols that Athelstan could not quite recognize adorned the skin. Some of the ink-strokes were broken up by scar tissue, others were intertwining with scarred over skin, and others seemed to try to hide it away. It was one of the most beautiful — and somehow morbid — artworks Athelstan had ever seen.

“Shit”, he mumbled quietly.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan and Ragnar get close up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! I hope you have a lovely day :)
> 
> thank you so much for over 1k hits???? that's crazy
> 
> ANYWAY call me ceo of angsty af ragnar bc that seems to be my speciality

Athelstan really did not mean to spy, but despite all his guilt he could not tear his eyes away, even when Ragnar turned towards him. 

“Athelstan”, he said with an awkward smile. Elsa had been successfully freed, now cuddled up in the shirt that laid on the floor.

“Ragnar, I’m so sorry”, Athelstan began, not quite sure what to say. His mind was wiped blank once more when Ragnar fully faced him. A pair of black sweatpants sat low on his hips, a few stray drops of water ran down his chest and once again Athelstan was overcome with the desire to paint the man in front of him. He would never attempt it, convinced that no one could ever catch the beauty and complexity in front of him. Ragnar was an artwork in and of himself, and Athelstan would never dare to try and duplicate that. 

“No worries”, Ragnar said, as he gently shooed Elsa away from the shirt so that he could pick it up. Athelstan watched as he pulled it over his head, the fabric loosely falling over his body. (Athelstan was really glad that he had kept some of his fathers clothing — a man larger than himself in every way. He had kept them as comfortable stay-at-home-clothes but now they had a different use and he did not mind at all.) The long sleeves reached down to Ragnar’s hands and he tugged at them carefully to adjust them, as Elsa cuddled up to his legs. 

“She likes you”, Athelstan thought out loud. “That’s weird. She’s very…..antisocial.” Ragnar looked down at the cat, dropping to his knees to pet her. Athelstan was very much surprised when Elsa did not run, but instead climbed up Ragnar’s back to sit on his shoulder. Laughing, Ragnar stood back up. 

“Thank you for the shower”, he said quietly. Athelstan smiled.

“Thank you for coming over”, he returned. “Tea?”, he asked after a short silence. Ragnar nodded his head. “That would be lovely”, he said and together they made their way back to the kitchen. There were wet footprints all over the floor. Athelstan heard Ragnar making a sound of what he supposed was distress. 

“I’m sorry about that”, he said, looking a little lost as he stood in the middle of the spacious room, Elsa still on his shoulder. Athelstan chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it”, he reassured his guest, not wanting to think about the times when Ragnar probably _had to_ worry about leaving wet footprints on the floor. _I did walk in on you shirtless_ , the words were stuck on Athelstan’s tongue and he prayed that they would remain there. He went on to boil water for tea, hoping that Ragnar would somehow make himself comfortable. The man was still standing in the middle of the room, scratching Elsa’s fur as she purred into his neck. Rain still violently splattered against the windows and the thunder would crack loudly, but since they had turned on the ceiling lights, the lightning was not as present anymore. Athelstan glanced at Ragnar, watching the blue eyes dart around the room. 

“Make yourself at home”, he told him. “You look like someone dropped you off at the lost and found.” Ragnar chuckled faintly at that. There was a bit of shuffling, and when Athelstan turned around, tea mugs in hand, Ragnar was sitting on the floor, his back leaned against the sofa and Elsa was curled up in his lap. _Yup,_ Athelstan thought to himself as he observed Ragnar’s position on the floor _, definitely not straight_. Athelstan copied him, although he crossed his legs in a less complicated manner than Ragnar. He had no clue how that legs-crossed-and-folded-underneath-his-body-pose was comfortable, but then again he supposed that being a martial artist forced you to be flexible. Athelstan sighed, his thought going a million miles per hour. 

“How do you know how to get out of... _that…._ so well?”, he asked, vaguely referring to his panic attack earlier. “That’s what you meant with things settling in later, huh?” Once again, Ragnar nodded. He really did not talk too much, but Athelstan found that he did not mind. It made his voice somewhat dearer to Athelstan.

“Let’s just say, I had my fair share of those”, he shrugged, turning to face Athelstan, his legs staying in that weird position. Athelstan found himself turning as well, as if Ragnar emitted some sort of electrical influence. Elsa was still purring in his lap, half asleep. 

“I, uhm, I apologize. Again. For walking in on you”, Athelstan stuttered. Atreyu laid his head on his thigh, sighing deeply. Ragnar raised a questioning eyebrow. “I feel like...I don’t know? As if I was not supposed to see that?”, he said but it was more a question than anything else. Ragnar averted his eyes to the cat, burying his hands in her soft fur. 

“You have questions”, he concluded, to which Athelstan nodded. “But I will not answer them. Not right now, at least”, Ragnar said, shooting a quick glance up at Athelstan. 

“I won’t push you on anything”, Athelstan mumbled calmly. He did have questions. A lot of them. But their answer was not worth pushing the fragile trust and relationship that was building between them. 

“Thank you”, Ragnar whispered almost inaudibly, his bright blue eyes staring directly at Athelstan. They were clear as day, and Athelstan thought they were almost _glowing_. To say he was intrigued would be an understatement. Athelstan really was not sure what had just happened, but their faces were suddenly very close together. Confused, he looked down at the floor. Somehow, he had scooted closer to Ragnar. A sudden surge of fear went through him. He had most likely just violated the man’s personal space, made him uncomfortable and destroyed the emerging trust between them. But Ragnar did not move back, he did not flinch. He merely cocked his head to the side, an unspoken question in his eyes and Athelstan did not know what to make of it. Pale blue eyes stared into ocean ones. Their faces were so close that they could feel one another’s breath, their foreheads almost touching. Instinctively, Athelstan brought a hand up to gently hold Ragnar’s face — longing to finally touch him, the canvas containing the artwork he was. His fingers had barely touched Ragnar’s cheek when he flinched away violently. Jerking back as if someone had slapped or burned him. Elsa hissed in displeasure, hopping away when Ragnar moved back, breathing heavily. His expression was glaze over, eyes unfocused as he stared at Athelstan. 

“I’m...I’m sorry, Athelstan”, he whispered, his voice trembling as his right hand came up to grab his forearm through the fabric of the borrowed shirt. Questionmarks were floating around Athelstan’s head. Why was Ragnar apologising? Athelstan was the one who had caused this reaction. He should have asked before he made a motion to touch someone’s face. Athelstan wanted to tell Ragnar that he had nothing to apologise for, but the man was caught up in his frantic rambling and it was impossible for Athelstan to get a word in. 

“It’s not….You’re a good person, but I—”, Ragnar stuttered, his gaze now averted to the floor as he dug his nails into his arm. He took a deep breath, repeating the pattern he had shown Athelstan earlier. “It’s not...I guess I’m bisexual?”, he said, his voice a little steadier than before. Athelstan took that as a _I really don’t care as long as we click_ kind of sexuality. “But I just...Never really... _acted_ upon it, I guess”, Ragnar shrugged. “There’s some things associated and —”, he stopped mid-sentence, looking up in confusion. “I’m sorry, why am I telling you all this?”, he said more to himself than to Athelstan. Athelstan was positive that his heart had shattered into a million pieces. Not because he was offended by Ragnar’s reaction, no. It was more the fact that Ragnar had been put through situations _so bad_ that a mere touch of fingertips would cause him to jerk away. It was a bit strange to Athelstan, considering that they had wrestled each other just a few hours ago. But there had been that slight glimpse of panic when he had pinned Ragnar to the floor. It had been so brief that Athelstan was sure he had imagined it — apparently he had not. He hated the implication that it brought. Panicking while being held down? There really was not too much room for imagination.

“There’s no need to apologise”, Athelstan said calmly, using the voice he often put on when a child had been hurt at recess. The same tactics often kept working well into adulthood. “I should have asked before I tried to touch you. You don’t need to justify your reaction or anything, but if you want to tell me about it feel free to do so”, Athelstan spoke softly. Ragnar closed his eyes and nodded. Athelstan hoped that he had taken at least some of the tension out of him, but he was still tightly holding on to his arm. At least Elsa had dared to climb up on Ragnar’s shoulder again. There was a silence between them as Athelstan observed Ragnar. He frowned as he became aware of the internal war Ragnar was no doubt waging. 

“Athelstan, how did you…? What did your parents…?”, Ragnar stuttered, his face scrunched up in concentration as he searched for the best way to ask his question. Athelstan decided to help him out.

“How did my parents react when I came out?”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan and Ragnar share a moment of intimacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, im not sure if athelstan actually has brown eyes bc im a lol dumb...
> 
> also not quite sure if ill be able to update tmrw, im sorry:( so please enjoy this :)

Ragnar was quiet for a moment. He was still trying to process what had just happened, and how well Athelstan had responded. It was strange to Ragnar that he was so _open_ about everything. From what he had heard about Christianity, not fitting the norm was not very appreciated. Ragnar knew that in his beliefs, this _deviance_ , as his father always liked to call it, was no issue and no one really cared. It was a small comfort and the only thing keeping him from completely submitting himself to the lessons of his childhood. 

“Yea, how did that go?”, he asked Athelstan. “I don’t know much about Christians.” Athelstan chuckled faintly, a smile playing on his lips as his hand went up to grip the cross necklace he was wearing. A strange parallel, Ragnar thought. He would always hold his forearms, while Athelstan always held his necklace.

“It was...really good actually”, Athelstan began and Ragnar could not stop himself from letting out a surprised noise. “My parents really weren’t on board with it at first —”, he tried to continue but Ragnar felt the need to chime in.

“What do you mean?”, he asked, cocking his head to the side, questioning. Once again Athelstan smiled at him. (It was a really nice smile, Ragnar had to admit. It seemed so genuine, straight from the heart.) He answered with his unbelievably soft and calm voice. Ragnar could listen to him for hours. 

“Will you let me speak without interruption?”, Athelstan asked jokingly to which Ragnar nodded and hummed. 

“Very good. Well, you see, when I realised that I was gay, I was scared. I told my parents about it because I did not know what to do.” Athelstan looked to the floor, breathing deeply before he turned his eyes to Ragnar again. 

“They were just as scared as I was. And so, we went to our pastor to ask for advice. My parents followed very conservative beliefs, but what our pastor said was almost a law for them. I got lucky in that regard”, Athelstan said, and Ragnar was glad that he did so with a smile. He had hopes that it was a good story.

“Our pastor told me I shouldn’t be scared. I think I cried at that point because I thought that God made a mistake, you know? That cliche teaching of how everything LGBT is bad. But the pastor said God does not make mistakes and I was exactly how God intended me to be”, Athelstan's smile got brighter. Ragnar felt like he was lighting up the whole room. He was sure that if you turned off the ceiling lights, Athelstan’s smile would be a sufficient light source. What a strange thought. 

“He told me that I now had a choice. I could either hide who I am or be proud of what God made me to be. And I decided to be proud”, Athelstan concluded, his eyes sparkling at Ragnar. He had to turn away from Athelstan. Blinking rapidly, Ragnar willed away tears, his fingernails digging so deep into his skin that he hissed in pain. 

“That’s...wonderful”, Ragnar mumbled and he did truly mean it. It was a wonderful story. He could feel the memories trying to drown him but he was determined not to drift, and so he dug his nails a little deeper into his arm. Athelstan noticed.

“Hey”, he whispered softly. “What are you...why are you — ?” His question was cut off by a shocked gasp. Ragnar was not sure why he did it. There was just something about Athelstan that made him want to spill all his secrets. He was not sure if it was a good idea. It was a secret he had really wanted to keep hidden. And now, without so much as a second thought, he had pulled up the sleeves of the shirt he had borrowed, revealing the scars his father had left there. 

Tentatively Athelstan reached out to him, his hands hovering in the air as he seemed to recall Ragnar’s previous reaction to being touched. Ragnar leaned slightly forward, giving non-verbal consent to being touched. A shiver rippled through Ragnar’s entire body when Athelstan’s hands held onto his arms ever so gently. He breathed in sharply, not meeting Athelstan’s pale yet loving eyes as he looked at Ragnar to make sure that he was alright. 

“Someone forced you to hide”, Athelstan whispered. Ragnar had no idea how to respond, he could only nod. Was he supposed to tell Athelstan what had happened? It seemed to be fair. A story in exchange for a story. He almost flinched as Athelstan ran his fingers along the scars. The teacher apologised quietly, but really it had been just a reflex. Athelstan’s touch was so light and feathery that Ragnar would have thought he imagined it if he had not been watching with his own two eyes. It was a nice touch, a good touch, Ragnar decided. He took a deep breath. 

“I was twelve”, he started and Athelstan’s hands stilled momentarily, as if he was about to retract them. Ragnar really did not want to lose the grounding touch, so he mindlessly reached out, tracing the veins on the back of Athelstan’s hand. He got the cue, keeping his hands where they were, occasionally ghosting lightly over Ragnar’s hands or forearms as he talked. 

“Floki — my best friend — and I, we kissed. Just to know how it feels. Neither of us had ever kissed someone before and someone had just told us about different sexualites and we wanted to _know_ ”, Ragnar mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. Sometimes he hated that his curiosity got the better of him that day, but now that he had met Athelstan and had heard his story, he loved that there was a part of him that his father had and would never be able to control. There was a strange sense of pride in that. 

“There was really nothing special but we both came to the conclusion that we don’t give a fuck, you know?”, Ragnar chuckled and even Athelstan breathed out a laugh. “Somehow, when I came home, my father already knew. At first I did not know what he was talking about. I guess, it never really mattered what mistake I made. It was just important for me to know that I had done something wrong.” Ragnar closed his eyes. His voice became slightly strained as he recalled the painful event. Athelstan whispered words of encouragement. It did not register fully in his head, but it helped. 

“He, uhm, I don’t know how to say it, unnskyld? I don’t know what piske means in engelsk.” Ragnar cursed his mind for trying to retreat back to his native tongue. There was a dark chuckle from Athelstan. 

“I can imagine what it means”, Athelstan mumbled, taking his eyes from the scars to look at Ragnar. He withdrew his hands, and Ragnar almost whined at the loss. He watched in confusion as Athelstan reached into his shirt to take off the cross necklace he had been wearing. He looked at it with a smile, before his attention was back on Ragnar.

“May I?”, he asked softly, holding the piece of jewelry out to Ragnar. 

“Yeah”, he replied just as softly. Athelstan smiled at him proudly (and that weird sensation of pride carried over to Ragnar). With his ever so gentle hands, Athelstan placed the cross necklace around Ragnar’s neck. 

“Hopefully it will remind you that you always have a choice, That _this_ is not a wrong way to be”, he whispered. Ragnar was sure he was going to cry. He looked down at the cross, before he gripped it tightly the way Athelstan had done so often. A tear escaped his eyes and ran down his cheek. He did not trust his voice. Instead, he took one of Athelstan’s hands that were still hovering in the air, and held it securely between his own. The teacher’s fingers intertwined with his own and Ragnar bent down to touch his forehead to their hands. He let out a content sigh when Athelstan’s free hand carefully made its way to the base of his skull, resting there with ease. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar has to get rid of Athelstan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have nothing to say in my defense, i am so sorry. this kinda hurt to write :(
> 
> the last few lines were inspired by the song "lisa" from a band called "von wegen lisbeth" (they're from my home country and i kinda like them, so maybe this song is the vibe for this chapter, alternatively this has bad liar - imagine dragons vives :))

They remained unmoving for a long time. Ragnar felt as if he could melt into Athelstan’s touch. The weight and warmth of the teacher’s hand on his neck was so alien and yet familiar. It set free a whole new mixture of emotions and his heart was leaping with joy, longing for more. His brain, on the other hand, was screaming at him to stop. To not let this get out of hand. Having Athelstan so close, dragging him into this mess, it was not fair. And it was dangerous. He needed to stop this right now. 

_Just a few more seconds_ , Ragnar told himself. _Let me have this for just one more moment._ He savoured the sensation, hoping that he could imprint at least this one pleasant feeling into his mind. With a deep, heavy sigh he sat up straight again and Athelstan’s hand gently fell from his neck. He kept holding onto his other hand ( _just a few more seconds_ ). 

“Athelstan”, he whispered, his voice cracking as he dreaded his next words. The teacher looked right at him. Ragnar felt exposed, as if Athelstan was staring straight into his soul, unravelling all his secrets. “You...you can’t associate with someone like me.” It was an impossible task to continue making eye-contact. He had seen the brief flash of confusion and hurt in Athelstan’s eyes and it broke him.

“Why?”, Athelstan asked simply, his voice just as quiet as Ragnar’s. He squeezed Athelstan’s hand — a gesture of pure desperation. How could he tell him without revealing too much?

“It’s dangerous”, he said carefully, still refusing to look at Athelstan. “ _I am dangerous_.” Ragnar watched intensely as Athelstan slipped his hand out of his grip. The sudden loss of contact and warmth broke something inside him. He wanted to scream.

“So, it’s true then?”, Athelstan asked grimly. Ragnar’s head snapped up, a questioning brow raised at Athelstan. How could he —?

“You did kill your girlfriend”, he whispered, looking at Ragnar with wide and terrified eyes. The teacher got to his feet, backing away from Ragnar. 

“No!”, Ragnar said quickly. “That’s — that’s not true!”, he protested, coming to his feet as well. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. It would have been the perfect opportunity to make Athelstan hate him. It would have been perfect to cut him off. To keep him safe. Why was he always so damn selfish? 

“I did not kill them”, he mumbled, trying to think about another way to push Athelstan away. “But I did kill others”, he said. It was not even a lie. He knew that he killed that man when he was twelve and he knew that, when he had tried to fight them off a second and a third time, he had killed even more. No one had ever told him how many had died from the fight he had put up and those deaths were in the name of self-defense, but Athelstan did not need to know that. Athelstan just needed to know that he could not build a relationship with Ragnar. 

“That...that can’t be true”, Athelstan said, raking his hands through his hair. “It _can’t_ be true!”, he yelled. Ragnar flinched at his volume and fought the urge to defend his actions. Tears ran down Athelstan’s face as guilt twisted a knife in Ragnar’s chest and he himself had to blink away tears.

“I’m sorry Athelstan”, he said, not daring to move forward, even though he had the urge to comfort the crying man in front of him. “I’m not a good person.”

Athelstan stared at him in utter disbelief. There was so much hurt and confusion in his eyes that Ragnar had the desire to rip out his own. Not only did he want to rip his eyes out, it would be so much easier to do this if he could rip his heart out as well.

“But….but you were so _nice_? So genuine and...— Ragnar, I don’t understand!”, Athelstan yelled. He made a few angry steps toward Ragnar, who swiftly slipped past the teacher and walked backwards so that both had somehow switched their positions. Ragnar steeled himself. By all the gods, he hated himself for this but it was the only way to keep Athelstan safe. Even though it might already be too late.

“People are fake, Athelstan”, he said, forcing every single emotion he had to the bottom of his thoughts. His voice had to be cold and unnerving, his face blank. It needed to be believable. “Like father like son”, he spat bitterly. Everything in him was rebelling at the thought of his father. They were _nothing_ alike, he always told himself but as he said that, he was not so sure anymore. After all, he had used violence and drugs to try and solve his problems more than once. Athelstan stared at him as if he had just slapped him. 

“Don’t say that”, he whispered. “Please don’t say that, Ragnar. You’re so much better than your father!” Ragnar shook his head. No matter how much it hurt him, he needed to keep up the act. Athelstan would get over him, eventually. He was forgettable. Athelstan could bear to lose him, find someone better, someone safer. And if Ragnar himself could not bear to lose Athelstan? Well, it did not matter. His life had been doomed from the start. Maybe he just was not meant to have good things. Soon, he would lose his sons too. When another one of those anonymous CPS calls came around and found just a single thing out of order, it would be over. And then he would have nothing left. 

“Don’t be naive”, he hissed at Athelstan. “You saw what I can do. If it had not been for you, I would have killed that man in the alley.” There was no need to lie. Ragnar would have killed the man that had tried to rob Athelstan. Because he was one of _them_. One of the worst ones. The man had only acted so scared to make it look believable, to sell the whole attempted robbery spiel. Ragnar knew that, realistically, he was not superior in a fight. They had fought each other more than once. It had never ended well. 

“I don’t believe that”, Athelstan whispered. “You’re better than that. I know it! I know you’re better than this”, Athelstan pleaded with him. Ragnar shook his head and glared daggers at Athelstan before he turned his back on him. 

“If I had a heart, I might care”, he said flatly. He stepped into his boots, not even bothering to lace them up. “Forget me, Athelstan. Rip your heart out and forget me. I’m not worth your time”, he whispered before he stepped out of the house. Ragnar made a point of slamming the door shut, hoping that it would be the last straw for Athelstan. Finally he could let the tears flow freely as he started to make his way back home. It had stopped raining, which only made the tears on his cheek feel much more real. His hands shook as he reached into his still wet jacket to retrieve his roll-up supplies. It took him a few tries. Nervousness and a starting withdrawal made his hands tremble too much to roll the damn paper or even fill it properly, but eventually he managed. Ragnar inhaled the smoke deeply, wishing the CBD would kick in sooner. 

What he had done was _good_ , he told himself. 

It would save him another heartbreak. It would save him another instance where the world broke him. No, from now on he would do it himself, and he would go down by himself. Life would never get him that broken. That was his part, and only his, he thought as he took another drag and watched the sky starting to change colours. At least he had that much pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well....there we have it, the first relationship crisis without an actual relationship....


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar is sad. Ivar is sassy. Ragnar is a little happier and Floki is a good friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea, no. this is not how cps works but i really could not care any less :D

Ragnar wiped his face one last time and threw the burned down cigarette into a bin, before he reached into his jacket again to retrieve his set of keys. As quietly as he could, he unlocked the door so that he would not wake his sons or Floki, who had been kind enough to drive through the storm to take care of the boys, while Ragnar had sprinted to Athelstan’s house. 

He shook his head to ban Athelstan from his mind. Just thinking about the man caused a weirdly painful and empty feeling in his stomach. It was almost nauseating. Ragnar quietly slipped his boots off and hung his jacket up, noting that it was now almost dry. After a short moment of contemplation, he took out his roll-up supplies again and stuffed them into the pockets of his sweatpants. _Athelstan’s sweatpants_ , a tiny voice at the back of his mind yelled. He chose to ignore it. 

On impossibly light feet, he headed to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. There was no sense in going to sleep now. The sun had almost risen fully and in an hour or two his boys would wake up. A small smile played on his lips as he spied Floki curled up in a blanket on the sofa. 

Where would he and Rollo be without Floki? They would have probably frozen to death in some shady part of town, Ragnar mused humorlessly as he waited for the water to boil. In all honesty, he would have bled out before the cold took hold of him. Rollo would have frozen. 

The click of the kettle stopped his morbid train of thought and he turned his attention back to his coffee. Almost robotically, he brewed the coffee as the cross necklace weighed heavy around his neck. Irritated, he wiped a stray tear from his cheek, the intimate moment between him and Athelstan still fresh in his mind. The spot on his neck where Athelstan had laid his hand was almost burning in a sorry parody of a phantom touch. With more force than necessary, Ragnar rubbed his neck. The chain of the necklace scraped against the sensitive skin, leaving angry red marks behind. 

Banning the night to the back of his head, he grabbed his cup and sneaked past Floki sleeping peacefully on the sofa. Once he was outside, he took his usual spot on the floor, sipping his coffee before he put the cup down to roll another cigarette. 

He really needed to stop, he thought for the millionth time. But as his hands started to shake uncontrollably again, he discarded that thought, just for the moment. At least that’s what he told himself. Ragnar cursed himself for trusting Athelstan so much right from the start. Even if those murderers had not put a target on the teacher’s back, Ragnar’s father would have killed either Ragnar or Athelstan, he was sure of it. He still might, Ragnar pondered. The idea of dying at the hands of his father was not as bad as it should have been. Really, sometimes Ragnar believed that death was a blessing, and he just could not wait for it. But he did have children, and he was determined to give them a good life, even if it meant that he would have to neglect himself.

“Ragnar”, Floki’s soft voice ripped through his thoughts. Ragnar flinched at the sudden noise, almost knocking over his cup. He turned his head to smile at Floki, but he just could not bring himself to do it. 

“Is everything alright?”, Floki asked quietly, sitting down next to him. Ragnar did not trust his voice. He remained quiet and put his head on Floki’s shoulder. Almost immediately, his best friend reached up to caress the side of his face. Ragnar sighed, as he flicked the butt of his cigarette into an overflowing ashtray. 

“I’ll kill him”, Floki said and Ragnar huffed out a laugh. “He didn’t do a thing”, Ragnar answered tiredly, staring at a leaf that was drifting over the grass. “I just had to get rid of him”, he continued on and Floki let him speak. “He can’t end up like Lagertha...or Aslaug.” Floki’s caressing hand stilled for a moment as he processed what Ragnar was saying. 

“He won’t”, Floki mumbled. “Even if you had not cut him off, he wouldn’t end up like that.” Ragnar was thankful for the reassurance but he remained quiet. He did not believe what Floki was saying and they both knew it. So, they just sat in silence and watched the rays of sunshine crawl over the buildings. 

“Floki, the boys need to wake up”, Ragnar suddenly shot up. He had almost fallen asleep. Floki’s warm hand on his face, the chirping of birds and the sleepless nights had actually caused him to doze off. 

“Alright, I’ll wake them up and you make them some food?”, Floki asked and Ragnar nodded in agreement. They stood up and went inside, Floki heading upstairs and Ragnar to the kitchen. 

He had just finished making some porridge for his sons, Floki and himself (even though he was sure he would not be able to eat a lot, the night weighed heavily on his stomach) when the doorbell rang. Confused, Ragnar stopped what he was doing and made his way to the door. 

“Hvis dette ikke er viktig, I swear to all the gods—”, he grumbled as he opened the door, cutting himself off when he saw the familiar face. Ragnar immediately straightened up. “An early visit, Ma’am”, he instead ended his sentence, forcing a tired smile. 

“It would not have been my choice either”, the woman said, stepping into the house when Ragnar made a vaguely inviting gesture. He followed her reluctantly, trying not to let his annoyance show as his children bombarded down the stairs, followed by a giggling Floki. 

“Boys, we have a visitor”, Ragnar called, eyeing the woman standing in the middle of his house. She was old, her hair almost grey with thin lips and a business suit, a clipboard in her hands. (Really?, Ragnar thought. How much more cliche could this get?). He had never bothered to learn her name and she had never bothered to introduce herself. 

“Good morning”, each of the five Lothbrok boys mumbled as they caught a glimpse of the unwelcome visitor. Even Floki rolled his eyes, leaning next to Ragnar against the kitchen counter. 

“What can I do for you today?”, Ragnar asked sarcastically, as he handed out breakfast to his sons. Gods, how much he _despised_ people working the state. They’d never done him anything good. CPS officers, just like the woman in his house, had never caught on to his and Rollo’s demise, and police officers had failed him and Lagertha in witness protection. No, sorry, he did not have much love for the government. 

“Just another anonymous caller”, the woman answered, stepping closer to the table his sons were eating at. 

“Ivar!”, Ragnar scolded. “What did I say about launching porridge?” Ivar lowered his spoon, grumbling to himself as he put the food in his mouth instead of throwing it at Hvitserk. 

“Not to do it because it’s sticky and blegh”, he said quietly. Floki laughed quietly. The woman raised an eyebrow and noted something on her pad. 

“Why is she here so often?”, Ivar asked after having swallowed his spoon of oatmeal. “I don’t like her.” This time Floki could not hold in his joy and laughed loudly, while Ragnar fought hard to keep a cackle in his throat.

“Ivar, that’s rude”, he said, his voice muffled by the spoon between his lips. The unwelcome visitor coughed awkwardly. “At least he’s honest”, she said. “There are people that, rightfully so, don’t trust a young man’s ability to raise five children on his own. Their concerns must be taken seriously”, she paraded down her words as if she was reading out a list of ingredients on a shampoo bottle. “But as I see it, like always, things seem to be in order. Of course I might come around again to check twice”, she informed the family. Ragnar had to hold back a yawn, her speech was boring and he was tired. 

“Are you finally leaving?”, Ivar asked, causing another round of giggles from his brothers and Floki. “Ivar!”, Ragnar scolded with mock offense for the third time that day. He could see the shit-eating grin on the boys face and was glad that the boy knew he was joking. 

Once the woman was gone and the boys had brushed their teeth and gotten dresses, Ragnar and Floki put their lunches in their school-bags. The enthusiasm and energy always left the five brothers when they were brought to school, only to return when their father picked them back up. Ragnar felt guilty that he had to put his sons through the endless boring nightmare that was school, but he did not have much of a choice. 

They drove off and Ragnar could not wait to give his hands something to do, even if it was just to get Athelstan off his mind. The cross hung heavy around his neck and he gripped it tightly. He wanted to get Athelstan out of his thoughts, but at the same time he did not want to forget him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation
> 
> (i'm so sorry i forgot the last few :()
> 
> Hvis dette ikke er viktig - If this isn't important....


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan reflects on past relationships and his own feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow can you believe 28 chapter have happened and nothing really has happened yet...this truly is more like a slow sizzle than a burn

Athelstan called in sick today. He was in no shape to deal with children today, no matter how much he loved his job. There was too much for him to think about, and he had no clue where to start. He was tired, not having gone to bed after Ragnar had left. Really, Athelstan was not a very lucky nor sensible personality when it came to his taste in men. There always had to be something sinister about them, he reflected as he laid on his cold kitchen tiles. 

His first relationship had been during his first year of college. It really had not been much of a relationship, there was not a lot of love lost between the two young men as they had both willingly used each other to experiment with their sexual nature. It had been thrilling for Athelstan at first, a taste of freedom to break away from his sheltered upbringing. But once the power imbalance between them had become too large and the other man had refused to compromise with Athelstan, he had to break it off. Gladly, there had been no argument between them and they had never spoken again. 

His second relationship had not been great either. It was a lot more romantic than his first, and Athelstan had no clue how to deal with it. He had never learned what was appropriate for relationships and what was not, and so he had never caught on to manipulative tactics. Judith had tried to open his eyes, but he had refused, not believing a word she had said. Because how could she know? She had been in a happy relationship with Aethelwulf after all. (Now Athelstan knew that their relationship was anything but happy.) The last straw for this relationship was the plate that had been aimed at his head. He had luckily ducked and it had not hit him, instead shattering on the wall behind him. Athelstan had not offered an explanation — feeling that the reason was obvious enough — as he had packed his things and left that very same day. Judith had been so kind not to comment on him ignoring her advice, but had instead helped him recover from this event that had affected him more than he cared to admit. 

Athelstan had really thought that Ragnar was different. In a way, he supposed he was. Ragnar had been kind enough to show his true colours to Athelstan before their relationship progressed too far. Still, Athelstan could not let him go. Things just did not add up, and nothing about this was like his previous relationships. Except for the fact that he could almost see the dark shadow hanging over Ragnar, following and controlling his every move. Athelstan knew it was a stupid thought, but he wanted to help and make that shadow go away. It was just wishful thinking, Athelstan thought grimly, but he was sure that there had been something like pain and regret, maybe even guilt and an apology, in Ragnar’s eyes — to be fair, in his entire body language — when he had violently pushed Athelstan away from him. Emotionally of course. The few physical touches they had shared were gentle, with a strange kind of intimacy that Athelstan had never experienced before. And he missed it greatly.

It was stupid to be hung up on a man he had known for not even a week, especially since their inciting encounter had started with Athelstan wanting to disappear and Ragnar contemplating murder. Perhaps not the best start for a relationship, he mused. Just as before, Judith had warned him of the other man’s true nature, even though Athelstan had doubts that it really was so truthful. He clung to that belief that humans were inherently good. Naive, he knew, but the way Ragnar interacted with his sons and Athelstan’s niece had reaffirmed that belief. 

Although, he supposed, Ragnar revealing the happenings of his childhood had caused serious damage. Even now, he really tried not to feel sorry for Ragnar. Afterall, he had openly admitted to being a murderer. And yet, Athelstan could not help but to think of him as a small terrified child, never knowing what he had done to deserve this. He imagined that the only source of affection and love had been Rollo, and maybe Floki. It was still strange for Athelstan to imagine that some parents did not love their children. He had seen it plenty of times during his teaching career, and gladly he had always been able to intervene. God, he needed to clear his thoughts. Without much of a though, he called Judith. 

“Athelstan?”, she answered groggily as if she had just woken up. “Everything alright?”

Athelstan let out a deep sigh. “I really don’t know”, he answered. “I think you were right about Ragnar.” There was a gasp at the end of the line.

“Did he hurt you?”, Judith asked, suddenly wide awake. “I swear to God, I will rip him apart.” Athelstan chuckled, sitting up as his back started to hurt. Atreyu was slowly walking over to him, putting his head in his lap.

“No”, Athelstan mumbled. “I just — we had...a talk?” Athelstan was not quite sure how to phrase this. “I’m alright, I just thought, well, I hoped you were wrong”, he said awkwardly. He heard Judith take a breath to say something but he would not let her. “He said he didn’t kill his girlfriend, but he said he killed others and that he’s dangerous”, Athelstan reiterated, tears pooling in his eyes. He angrily wiped them away. “I thought that he would be different, especially after what he told me about his childhood”, he said quietly. Judith sighed deeply.

“Well, Athelstan, I’m really sorry to hear that”, she said and she did sound truly regretful. “At least he was upfront about it, huh? The bar really is underground”, she laughed bitterly and Athelstan could not help himself but to join in in her laughter. The tears were still pricking at the corners of his eyes, but it was a little easier to ignore them when he was talking to Judith. With a sigh, he stood up and walked to his window, watching as dark clouds tried to hide the sun that had just been shining. Another storm was coming, he assumed. This time he would have to get through it without Ragnar. 

“To be fair, assuming his childhood was abusive, it’s really no wonder that he ends up a murderer”, Judith fantasized, sounding deep in thought. 

“Too much True Crime, Judtih, too much. You’d think that you would have made better relationship choices, dear”, Athelstan shot back. Really, both of them were questionable in their partner choices, but at least it was something they could bond over. 

“You would really think so, wouldn’t you?”, Judith laughed but she was cut off by a painful groan. “Fuck, Athelstan, I have to go”, she gasped, yelling after Athelstan’s sister faintly. “Little Alfred really wants out”, she said, hanging up the phone before Athelstan had a chance to respond. 

He smiled. At least one of them had received great news today. He mulled over the thought as he put his phone away, catching a shadow moving in the periphery of his vision. Atreyu barked and somewhere in the distance he could hear Elsa hiss. Quickly, he looked up and the shadow moved again. A masked person — Athelstan could not tell their gender, they were masked and in heavy black clothing — stood at the lamppost on the other side of the street. Their eyes were the only uncovered part, but Athelstan was too far away to see the colouring. They held a phone in their hand, pointing at it just as Athelstan’s phone vibrated with an incoming message. Tentatively he looked down at the message. An icy shiver ran down his back and he shuddered. 

_He thinks he can protect you by staying away. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re safe. We are watching you and we will get what we want._

Athelstan had no clue what they were talking about, who _they_ even were, but he knew it could not be good. Was this the reason Ragnar had so fiercely told him to leave him be? Were they victims of Ragnar’s murderous urges? The ground was swaying beneath Athelstan as he looked up again, a million questions running through his head. The shadowy figure looked right back at him, slowly moving a finger across their throat. Athelstan swallowed thickly, unable to turn away.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar is tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooooo, i saw a crow absolutely tearing apart the corpse of another bird and it was really cool but also really disturbing and this has nothing to do with the chapter :'D

While Athelstan was laying on the floor, reflecting on past relationships, Ragnar and Floki arrived at their workplace. Getting out of the car and walking in a straight line to enter the building proved to be an almost impossible task for Ragnar. Floki shot him worried glances, occasionally holding his weight when he started to stumble. If Ragnar was being honest, he could not remember the last time had slept or eaten properly. He ran on a mixture of caffeine, nicotine, anxiety, and spite and it was taking a toll on his body.

“Ragnar, if you think I’ll let you handle power tools — or any tools for that matter — you are deeply mistaken”, Floki said firmly, as he opened the door to let Ragnar through. He let out a childish whine.

“But Floki”, he grumbled. “I need _something_ to do!” The thought of not being able to put his body and mind to work was horrifying. He would not be able to stop his thoughts if he had no distractions, and Floki knew that. But Floki also knew of his self-destructive habits and, even though the safety precautions were strictly monitored, accidents would happen. Especially in Ragnar’s almost delirious state. 

Ragnar sat down on a workbench once they were inside the shop, waiting for Floki to tell him what to do instead. Sitting down in the car had been a mistake, it had only let the exhaustion settle into his bones. When he was moving around, he was fine. But the moment he stilled, he felt the fatigue in his bones. Yet, his thoughts never slowed and even now his mind was still revolving around Athelstan. Sometimes there was Lagertha’s voice and Gyda’s cheery laugh — a sharp pain flared in his heart at their memories — and the idea of running outside and jumping in front of a bus suddenly seemed very pleasant. 

“You’re not listening to me!” Now it was Floki’s turn to whine like a child as he jumped on the workbench next to Ragnar, ripping out of his thoughts. Luke glared at them disapprovingly as he passed them. He was a good man — he was just a little particular about rules, but since they were technically not breaking any rules, he did not say anything. (And it was hard to miss the way Ragnar was fighting to keep his eyes open. Maybe that had caused the disapproving look.)

“Sorry, what?”, Ragnar asked, turning his attention to Floki. Floki rolled his eyes at him playfully before repeating what he had said. “I said, that you should probably do some counter-duty, y’know, customer service?”, he asked and Ragnar let out a groan. 

“Don’t do this to me, Floki, please. Customer service is the worst”, he whined, just as Luke came back.

“Well, I’m not even trusting you with a rubber mallet right now”, he chuckled. “Catch”, Luke ordered as he threw something at Ragnar, who surprisingly did catch it. It was a can of Monster Energy and Ragnar smiled. “Sugar and caffeine”, Luke said as he walked away again. “Should keep you on your feet until you get home.” Ragnar called his thanks after him, before he opened the can and sipped the sparkly beverage. 

“You’ll never hear the end of this”, he grumbled to Floki as he hopped off the workbench to walk to the front room. His hands and legs were shaking slightly from all the caffeine he had consumed but he did already feel a little more awake and alert. 

There was not much to do, most of the business was happening online now or on the phone. He had had two calls so far, trying to explain to grown adults that a custom made and quality piece of furniture would not be done within three hours. They were not pleasant phone calls, but other than that everything was calm. So, Ragnar decided to fix small things like the several burnt trough LED-lights that hung on the wall. It was easy enough work to do, even in his tired state and it would still give him something to do and distract him for a while. 

He was almost done when the bell chimed, signalling that someone did in fact find the way to the shop. For a moment, Ragnar tried to ignore the other presence in the room, until a hand hit the counter top. He would have flinched if he was not so damn tired, instead he was just annoyed. With a deep sigh he turned around, his annoyance growing even deeper when he recognized the visitor. Really, under normal circumstances he would be shaking in fear when he was met with his father’s face, but he was really running on empty and could only roll his eyes. 

“How is it that I managed to escape you for fourteen years and now, in the span of a week I had to see you three times”, he groaned, leaning on the counter. His pose might have been interpreted as challenging by some, but honestly, Ragnar just did not have the nerve to stand. 

“Don’t get sassy with me, boy”, the man in front of him seethed. Ragnar rolled his eyes. He was about to argue that he was, in fact, a grown man but there was no point. 

“What do you want? Get it on, because I don’t have all day”, he replied instead. If he was being honest, he was expecting to get hit, scratched, choked, anything like it, but it was almost as if his complete and utter indifference was so baffling to his father that he did not process it enough to be seriously furious and the short silence that ensued further proved his suspicions. Ragnar winced quietly when a phone was slammed down next to him (the sound of it bothered him more than the action itself).

“What is this message? What kind of shady business did you end up in?”, his father asked him, shoving the phone in his face. Ragnar blinked, trying to decipher the words on the screen but they seemed to dance around restlessly. He was sure that there was something about _safe_ and _kill_ , words of that sort. There was no need for further context. He knew what this was, and his blood that had been burning with all the substances trying to keep him on his feet ran cold. 

“Maybe if you had your job as a father this would not have happened”, he whispered. He needed to talk to Athelstan. To Rollo. To Floki. This could _not_ be happening. Not again, not so soon. 

Ragnar quickly made his way to the back. “Floki!”, he yelled, suddenly wide awake. He was not quite sure if he was shaking from too much caffeine or anxiety but it did not matter. When Floki approached him, looking worried as ever, he let out a relieved sigh. 

“What is it, Ragnar?”, he asked, trying to get a few of the front room to see if anything had happened there to cause his panicked state. 

“Did you — did you get a, uhm, threatening message in the last few days?”, Ragnar asked quietly, praying that no one would hear them. 

“No, why?”, Floki asked, seeming genuinely confused. Ragnar thought that the answer came a little too quick but he did not want to give it too much thought. He just nodded, giving Floki a quick hug before he called Rollo and asked the same thing. 

“Not yet”, Rollo answered. “Should I be expecting some?”, he asked, chuckling as if to diffuse the situation. Ragnar huffed, a small smile on his face.

“Maybe, jeg vet ikke. Be careful, please”, he told his brother. Rollo gave a reaffirming answer before he hung up, needing to get back to work.

Only Athelstan was left now. His trembling fingers hovered over the call button for a long time, before Floki flew by to press it for him. Ragnar glared at his best friend, who just giggled as he danced away. 

“What do you want, Ragnar?”, Athelstan’s voice came through the phone. It was unsure, a little shaky and quiet. Ragnar rubbed his face with a deep sigh. 

“I — I, uhm, listen. I’m so sorry about what happened. I just need to know this”, he begged Athelstan. He hated the desperation in his voice but he could not help it. “Did anyone message you anything threatening? Don’t lie to me, Athelstan. Please, don’t lie to me”, he whispered, close to tears. He cared too much about that man. Ragnar would never forgive himself if Athelstan got hurt because of him. 

“What? What do you mean?”, Athelstan answered slowly as if he was not sure what to answer. 

“Any unusual messages?”, Ragnar repeated his question, swaying back and forth on his feet, while his teeth were malming the skin around his fingernails. He heard Athelstan take a deep breath.

“No, I mean, Judith texts me weird stuff all the time, but that’s it”, he chuckled. There was a nuance in his voice that Ragnar did not know how to place. Was it nervousness? Well, it would make sense, they had not ended on the best terms. 

“Okay, okay. Please be careful, my little priest, please. Be careful”, he muttered, cursing his nervous tick of repeating phrases. At least he had managed to remain in English. 

“I, uhm, I will be, I promise”, Athelstan said hesitantly before he hung up the phone.

Ragnar collapsed to his knees. For now, his loved ones were safe. But who was to say that it would remain like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation
> 
> Jeg vet ikke. - I don't know.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar and the boys suffer a sudden shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i hope y'all are well! weekend's approaching hopefully everyone is able to relax a bit :)

Ragnar had managed to catch two hours of sleep after Floki and Luke had forced him to lay down for a bit in a make-shift mattress in one of the storage rooms. It had been quiet, and surrounded by the all-encompassing smell of wood he had felt a lot more at ease. As always he had been too scared to close his eyes, afraid of the images he would see but Luke (who was luckily a co-owner of the family business he worked at) had allowed Floki to sit by his side. With Floki’s warm presence by his side and some soft and careful touches and quiet words, he had finally been able to sleep for a while until it had been time to pick up the kids from school. 

He was glad for the small break because currently, he was chasing his boys in the garden. There were three other children and two teenagers with him and his sons, all carrying sticks as imaginary swords or bows, pretending to conquer and defend their kingdoms. Ragnar really tried to ignore the disapproving glares of the children’s parents that were burning into his back and, in a way, he felt sorry that he was somehow damaging the parental relationship. It was worth it, though, he thought as he heard the carefree laughs coming from his children. (Because for the moments they were playing with each other he had practically adopted them, especially taking to the teenagers and giving them tips on how to get through rough patches.) 

Somehow he really needed this. It was as if he was reliving the childhood he never had, his thoughts for once free of everything that happened.

“We got you! You have to give up!”, one of the older kids yelled as they tackled him to the floor. Ragnar let out a surprised yelp, as the weight suddenly got heavier.

“We are never giving up!”, Ivar yelled as he landed on the human that was already laying on Ragnar. Inevitably, they all ended up in a gigantic group hug on the floor. Ragnar would be lying if he said that it was not painful to have so many children piled up on you, but he was not one to deny a kid the love they needed. Instead, he just sighed happily, hoping that these people would grow up better than he had.

Once it had gotten too cold (September really was a strange month in terms of temperature swings) they had gotten back inside and Ragnar had made dinner for his boys. The sun was now slowly setting, the shadows getting longer as rain started to drizzle outside and they sat in the living room, cups of hot chocolate and some cookies between them as Ragnar told his sons stories. He was a truly dramatic story teller — doing all the different voices, making wide gestures and even standing up to make a point or move around while talking. 

The five boys were watching him intently as he acted out the story of Thor’s Wedding. 

“And Loki said ‘Thor, don’t you see, the deception will be a fine trick to play on Thrym the thief?’”, Ragnar said dramatically, cocking his head to the side as if he was asking his sons. 

“Thor wore a wedding dress?”, Ubbe exclaimed in disbelief, to which Ragnar nodded.

“Yes! It was very —”, he started, but Sigurd made a confused sound that cut him off. 

“Dad, I think I heard something outside”, the blond boy whispered, his eyes wandering around the room to see if any of his brothers had heard anything. And there it was. Ragnar’s whole body tensed up. A weird scraping noise outside, as if somebody was writhing against the wall or trying to break the door open. 

“Boys”, he whispered, crouching down to be less visible, “take your things and go upstairs, please. Bjorn, if anything happens, take your brothers and run, understood?”, he asked, forcing his voice to remain calm and steady, when he put his hands on Bjorn’s shoulder, speaking directly to him. Bjorn could only nod, staring up at him with wide eyes. There were grumbles of approval, as if they were too scared to talk. Scared that the house would be a bloodbath again when they came downstairs. 

Ragnar gave all of his sons a quick but tight hug, before he sent them upstairs. He knelt on the floor, trying to calm his nerves until he heard a door close upstairs. With a deep breath he stood up again, walking to the front door on quiet feet. Ever so slowly, trying not to make a sound, he slid open one of the cabinet drawers and retrieved a knife. For a moment he stared at his own face, reflected on the slightly curved blade of the bowie hunting knife. He gripped the handle tightly, turning the blade upwards so that it was hidden, the flat part of the blade pressed against his arms, The coolness of the metal was oddly grounding, and with a new found calm settling into him, he was ready to face any intruders. He listened, his back leaning against the wall next to the door. It was now completely dark outside.

After a few moments of silence Ragnar reached out to open the door, just the tiniest bit. There was a confused noise outside, confirming Ragnar’s suspicion of an intruder. The door was pushed open carefully, conveniently hiding Ragnar as a shadowy figure stepped into the house. They stood in the hallway for a second, holding the door before they let it go so that it could fall close. The figure began moving and without making a sound, Ragnar followed.

Once the figure stopped, still just in the hallway, Ragnar took his chance. He caught up to them, wrenching one of their arms behind their back as they cried out in pain and pressed the hunting knife to their throat. There was a shocked gasp, as they tried to defend themselves. They managed to slam Ragnar up against the wall, and he groaned in pain as his head hit the concrete but his grip was tight and he did not let go.

“What do you want? Who are you?”, he hissed into their ear. A silence ensued, both of them breathing heavily. 

“Ragnar?”, the intruder whispered softly and every muscle in Ragnar’s body started to rebel, but he was too shocked to let go of the man he was holding.

“....Athelstan?”, he asked hesitantly. He felt the nod more than he saw it, and instantly he let go, turning the flat side of the blade against his arm again so that it would be concealed from Athelstan. Athelstan stumbled away from him, leaning against the opposite wall as he tentatively brought a hand to his throat. 

“I could have killed you, Athelstan! Jeg kunne ha drept deg! Hva faen tenkte du?!”, Ragnar almost yelled, only barely able to control his emotions as his body began to shake. If from nervousness, relief or anxiety, he did not know. 

“That was — “, Athelstan started to say, but got cut off when the lights suddenly turned on. Both men flinched at the sudden brightness.

“That was so cool!”, Ivar and Hvitserk exclaimed in unison. Ragnar turned his head to look at his sons, not being able to hide the confused smile as he caught Bjorn’s apologetic face and his excusing shrug. Athelstan chuckled nervously.

“We really should stop meeting when you are equipped with a knife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeg kunne ha drept deg. - I could have killed you
> 
> Hva faen tenkte du? - What the fuck were you thinking?


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan learns that Ragnar caresand uncovers the lengths he will go to, to protect those he cares about

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the drama begins!!! after 30 chapters, the plot finally advances :'D

Athelstan watched as Ragnar ran a hand down his face, sighing in what he assumed was desperation. The man in front of him kept one arm close to his body, and Athelstan guessed he was trying to hide the knife from his sons that were standing in the living room, looking at the two of them with wide eyes.

“Okay, okay, okay”, Ragnar whispered to himself, clearly overwhelmed by the situation. “You”, he pointed at Athelstan, “are completely crazy. Just come marching into this house, no call, no message. Didn’t even ring den jævle dørklokken! You are insane, priest!”, he scolded, and Athelstan had to admit that he felt like a teenager whose weed stash had just been found. He went on to say something but Ragnar was not done yet. 

“And you guys”, he turned to his sons, “were supposed to be upstairs!” Athelstan’s heart shattered when a tear ran down Ragnar’s face and he fell to his knees. The knife skittered across the floor as he pushed down the hallway, away from his sons. 

“I’m sorry, dad”, Bjorn mumbled, approaching his father to collapse into his arms. The rest of them followed suit, and Athelstan had to admit, he did feel a little awkward being a bystander to such a fragile moment. 

“What would you have done if it were those guys, huh?”, Ragnar mumbled into Hvitserk’s hair as he tried to gather all of his sons in his arms. “In situations like this, please just listen to me, okay?”, he asked softly. There were five affirming nods and some vocal confirmations, before Ragnar gently untangled himself from his sons and stood up again. Athelstan almost scowled when he saw his shaking hands. 

“Why are you here?”, Ragnar asked him. Why  _ was _ Athelstan here? It had been a quick and stupid thought, but he just could not leave the way they parted be. 

“I want to talk. About what happened”, he answered quietly, attempting to make eye contact with Ragnar but the man was looking everywhere but Athelstan. 

“There’s nothing to talk about”, he said as he bent down to pick up the knife he had so carelessly thrown away. Athelstan watched him. 

“Well, for me there is, okay?”, Athelstan said defiantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leaned against the wall. Ivar snickered quietly. Ragnar was quiet as he stashed the knife away. It seemed to be hidden very well, judging by the movements Ragnar made — it made sense, though, to keep such a weapon concealed in a house with children. 

“You should not have come, little priest”, Ragnar said, walking past Athelstan. He picked Ivar up from the floor and walked into the living room, his sons following suit. Athelstan hurried after them. 

“Why not?”, he challenged, trying to get a reaction out of Ragnar. The other man did not speak as he sat Ivar down on the sofa, his brothers joining, and they followed the conversation with interest. Ragnar turned to face Athelstan but he did not say anything, as if he was expecting him to continue talking. “You...you kept the necklace”, Athelstan whispered. There was a foreign pain tugging at his heart and he tried hard to keep from choking up. 

“Of course I did”, Ragnar whispered, looking at the floor as he grabbed the cross in the same manner Athelstan had. He raised his eyes up at Athelstan, who almost reeled back at the almost glowing blue eyes that were staring at him. “Athelstan, you are important for my sons. And somehow, maybe even for me, okay? That’s why you need to stay away”, Athelstan did not know what stone just fell into place but somehow he was sure that the message he had gotten earlier today was connected to all of this.

“I think it might already be too late for that, Ragnar”, he said and pulled out his phone. “I lied when you called me. Didn’t want to worry you”, Athelstan mumbled as he showed the message to Ragnar. 

“Fuck, Athelstan, I’m so sorry”, he said, turning away as if it pained him to look at Athelstan. His sons watched them, an expression of horror and interest on their faces. Athelstan supposed they had a rough idea but no detail on the situation, no matter how much Ragnar must hate for them to know anything at all, but it was seemingly impossible to keep something like this a secret. 

“I never meant for you to get dragged into this. I thought it was still — “, Ragnar said but Hvitserk reached to tap his arm, successfully shutting him up. 

“There was someone outside. I saw shadows move outside the door”, the boy said quietly. A loud knock sounded and Athelstan flinched, while the boys huddled up on each other.

“Lothbrok!”, someone yelled outside, their tone angrier than anything Athelstan had ever heard. All eyes turned to Ragnar. He was breathing heavily, his hands shaking as he curled them into fists just to uncurl them again.

“What is going on?”, Ubbe asked, his eyes fixed on the front door. The harsh knock sounded again but they all remained unmoving. Ragnar took a deep breath. 

“Athelstan, no matter what happens, stay with my sons, okay?”, he said, facing Athelstan again. He wanted to protest but the sheer determination on his face left no room for arguments, and so he just nodded. Then, Ragnar crouched down in front of his sons and they gathered into a gigantic hug. (Athelstan was still almost moved to tears by the amount of love in this family.) 

“Boys, I need you to find Rollo or Floki, okay?”, he asked, not evening waiting for a response as he continued talking. “Don’t look back. You have to run away, you hear me? Stick together, no matter what”, he instructed them, trying to stand up but his sons pulled him down again. Athelstan wished he could help somehow, but he did not even know what was happening. 

“We need you!”, Ivar protested as he held his father close. Ragnar chuckled. “I promise, boys, I’ll see you again”, he said, his voice was serious. He was intent on keeping that promise. Bjorn did not seem convinced.

“We can’t just leave you!”, he protested, flinching as the knock sounded again. 

“Lothbrok, hiding won’t do you any good!”, the angry voice came again. How no one had been alerted yet was beyond Athelstan. 

“Bjorn, don’t question me on this, please”, Ragnar whispered as he stood up, writhing himself out of his sons’ hands. They tried to hold onto him, but he would not let them. “Go, boys, please”, he begged them but they were still defiant, even as Ragnar tried to walk away from them.

“We’re not leaving you!”, Sigurd said decidedly. Ragnar was almost glaring at his sons, only the deep concern (or fear?) softened the intense gaze. “For once in your life, do as I say!”, he pressed out. “You have to leave! We don’t have time! Don’t fucking question me on this, you need to run!”, Ragnar said and Athelstan thought he sounded almost angry if his voice had not been quivering. 

“Come on, boys”, Athelstan decided to intervene. “He knows what he’s talking about. You’ll see him again in no time”, he smiled at them, trying to show that he believed in his own words, but he really did not. They seemed to recognize that there was no way to get around this and slowly began to stand up, inching towards the door but still keeping their eyes on Ragnar. 

“I love you, boys”, he smiled at them with tears in his eyes. “Go, and don’t look back. You’re not going that way.” And with that he turned away, walking out of Athelstan field of vision. Bjorn seemed to take charge as he slid the glass door open and urged Athelstan and his brothers to go outside. The cold air hit him as he was still trying to process what had happened in less than two minutes. Bjorn shut the door again, urging them on and keeping true to his father’s instructions of never looking back. Athelstan could not do it. As he followed the boys, he turned around. He saw Ragnar’s strong form outlined by the light in his house. He was holding an axe in his hand as he stood in the hallway, almost appearing to wait for the attackers to break down the door. His shoulders heaved once and then it happened. The door flew open, and Athelstan could only see how Ragnar’s axe dug itself deep into a stranger's neck when Bjorn demanded his attention.

“Athelstan! Don’t look back”, he hissed. Athelstan did as he was told, turning back around to follow the boys. 

As they snuck around the gardens, hoping to escape unseen, Athelstan caught sight of Aelle’s house. He could only think that he really did not like the smug smile on the man’s face as he stood by the window, before the small group was out on the street, running for their lives. 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter warrants the tag of graphic violence but im not sure?
> 
> in any case, enjoy this almost dialogueless chapter :D

Ragnar was painfully aware of the oxygen entering his lungs as he stood in front of the door, shoulders squared and axe in hand. He was not shaking anymore. His heart was not hammering in his chest. The blood was not rushing in his ears. Ragnar was calm. Too calm maybe, as the door flew open and the uniform mass of people advanced on him. Almost mechanically he raised his axe, sinking it deep into the neck of the person closest to him. The man let out a gurgled scream as the blade sliced through the flesh like a hot knife through butter. Blood splattered onto Ragnar's face and he reflexively licked his lips, tasting the metallic liquid. 

Time seemed to pass in slow motion as he brought his elbow out to ram it hard enough into another man's throat, crushing his larynx. Ragnar hopped over the body, ducking under a knife that was slashed at his head and swiped out a woman's legs from underneath her body. She grunted as she fell to the floor. Ragnar turned around, bringing the hilt of his axe down against someone's temple. The cracking of the skull was unbearably loud in his ears as the woman he had just brought to the floor stabbed a knife into his thigh. A blinding hot pain shot through his leg and Ragnar fell down on one knee. He groaned in pain as he spun around on the floor. The woman looked at him with a wicked grin before he slammed the blade of the axe into her ribcage and forced himself to his feet again. 

Ragnar tried his best to dodge the kicks and punches they were throwing at him, trying to duck under the hilts and blades of knives but his thigh was bleeding profusely and his own blood started to cloud his vision. Every muscle in his body hurt and he wanted so badly to just throw his weapon down and surrender. The stream of attackers seemed endless. He could not win, and he knew it. He could not give up. He refused. He had to do this. For his sons. For Rollo and Floki. For Lagertha and Aslaug. For Athelstan. They needed time to get to safety and he was determined to give it to them. These people would not kill him. Torture him to insanity, maybe. Kill everyone dear to him, sure. But they would never kill him and he had to use that. 

Ragnar screamed in frustration as he raised his axe again bringing it down to split a masked skull in half. His hands were slick with blood and the weapon slipped from his grip when someone behind him grabbed into the chain of the necklace to yank him back. Ragnar choked for a moment before someone constricted the movement of both his arms, pulling him against a warm and firm body behind him. 

He began to struggle in blind panic, using the body as a leverage to propel himself up and kick back the oncoming attackers. There were grunts of pain as he kicked in ribcages, faces and throats, still desperately trying to wrench himself out of the grasp he was in. Ragnar felt the pressure of the grip loosen but before he could break free, the grip returned, somehow more painful than before. The man holding him put his weight on Ragnar's shoulders and as much as he tried to resist, his injured leg gave out and he was forced to his knees.

The panic began to settle into his bones. He could not breathe. The man still pressed up against him, breathing down Ragnar's neck as the surviving and still conscious attackers started to surround him. Ragnar's eyes flickered across the room, trying to take in the situation but his mind was too clouded. He could not think straight. The calm of the fight had vanished once he had been wrestled to his knees. 

He was so powerless, so small, too many people towering over him. ( _ Aslaug was screaming at him to defend himself when they had forced him to his knees, arms and head wrenched back in painful angles. A hand ran along his jawline — a mockery of a lover's touch. Ragnar shuddered. He wanted to fight, every fibre in his body screamed at him to do something but he could not put this pain on Aslaug. Even if he did not love her, all of this was his fault and he would make sure that he would keep as much pain from her as he could. Even if it meant he might never love again. _ ) Aslaug's voice was screaming and crying in his head and he had to disappoint her a second time. The blood loss was getting to him as he struggled against the body restraining him ( _ why were none of the faces processing in his head?!).  _ A sharp pain seared through his arm and his chest and he dimly registered a hand holding a knife slowly retreating. 

The world was fuzzy around the edges of his vision. Ragnar had trouble recognising his own home when a new type of pain entered his mind. A pinprick in his neck that only lasted for a few seconds. His limbs got impossibly heavy and his eyelids desperately wanted close but he fought against it. Gathering the last of his strength he struggled against the body restraining him and his own body threatening to shut down. Distantly, he knew that he had just been drugged and fighting would prove to be in vain. He could not fight against chemicals, but he just had to buy Athelstan and his sons a little more time.

Ragnar groaned as he was roughly turned around. An old pain flamed up in his ribcage and he spat out blood, letting his head hang low as he tried to pull himself out of the grasp he was in one last time.

"Ever the fighter", a voice laughed in a condescending tone. Ragnar lifted his head ever so slightly, just enough to see the outline of a corpulent man approaching him. Someone cackled behind him, pressing a finger into a wound in his shoulder. Ragnar gritted his teeth, letting his head fall again as he felt the hot blood seeping into the fabric of his shirt. A pair of expensive leather boots entered his vision and two fingers were placed under his chin, gently lifting his head up so that he was forced to look at the man in front of him. 

"Aelle?", he whispered in disbelief, the drug trying to overtake him made his voice rough. Aelle's thumb caressed his cheek and Ragnar would have jerked back from the touch but he was firmly held in place. Those soft touches were the worst. Ragnar needed them to hurt, he could not take the illusion of care — of love. 

"Tell us", Aelle whispered, smiling at Ragnar with a sinister glint in his eyes. "Tell us the coordinates and we might let your family live."

Ragnar tasted the blood in his mouth thoroughly before he spat it into Aelle's face. "Dra til helvete", he whispered, kindling the spark of defiance that was still buried deep inside him. 

When the world finally went black around him, he did not know if it was due to the drug finally overpowering him or if it was the hard blow delivered to his temple. He could just hope that Athelstan and his sons had enough time to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation
> 
> Dar til helvete. - Go to hell.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan learns about the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope y'all had a lovely weekend :)

Athelstan was thoroughly impressed by Bjorn's leadership. The boy was carrying Ivar on his back, fearlessly leading them through the dimly lit streets. Athelstan had tried to ask questions, tried to turn back and help Ragnar or just see what had happened, but the boys firmly refused. Their father had told them to not look back and they would hold true to their orders. Afterall, Ragnar had promised that he would see them again, Ivar had mumbled before he had fallen asleep on Bjorn's back. When Athelstan had offered to take the sleeping boy off of Bjorn, the oldest Lothbrok-child had glared at him out of blue eyes that reminded Athelstan a bit too much of Ragnar, and had just kept on walking.

After what had felt like hours to Athelstan, they had finally reached the outskirts of the city and Bjorn led them to a small, dreamy-looking house. Really, it was more like a cottage. Stone walls with ivy creeping around the windows and a soft light breaking through the curtains. Athelstan trailed behind the five boys as they walked through the front-yard filled with flowers, not quite knowing what his purpose in this was. Ragnar had told him to stay with his sons, and Athelstan planned on following through. 

"Uncle!", Bjorn yelled softly, knocking on the door. Ivar stirred on his back but did not wake up. Hvitserk, Ubbe and Sigurd looked around with tired eyes, holding onto each other for at least some form of security. 

The wooden door opened and Rollo stood in the frame. Warm light spilled out into the yard as he looked the group over. 

"Bjorn?", he asked, confusion written on his face. "Boys? Athelstan?!", his voice was laced with disbelief as Ragnar's younger sons latched onto their uncle. Bjorn adjusted Ivar on his back as Athelstan stood a little behind them, feeling unsure of his role in this situation. 

"What happened? Where's Ragnar?", Rollo asked, motioning them to come inside. The small group went inside and were met with a concerned Siggy.

"What's going on?", she asked, after she saw Rollo's face. The man looked like he had just seen a ghost as he gently took the sleeping Ivar off Bjorn's back. "You know what? I'll make you boys a hot chocolate and then you can tell us what happened, alright?", she suggested with a smile, pressing a quick kiss to every boy's forehead, almost having to get on the tips of her toes when she stood in front of Bjorn. "Athelstan do you want some tea?", Siggy turned to him and he could only nod mutely, wringing his hands together to ground himself. 

"Get comfy, guys", Roll told them. The young boys did as they were told, taking cushions and blankets to sit on the floor while Athelstan stiffly sat on the sofa. Rollo carefully put Ivar down next to him and quickly followed Siggy into the kitchen to help her prepare the drinks. Once more, Ivar stirred, this time awakening from his slumber. He sat up, looking around for a moment as if he did not remember what had happened.

"Oh", he whispered softly as everything seemingly came rushing back to him. The boy hugged his knees to his chest and numbly stared at his brothers. They sat in silence until Rollo and Siggy came back, their hands filled with steaming mugs. The couple handed out the drinks to their visitors and then sat down themselves.

"Now tell us, what happened?", Rollo asked. As Bjorn began to retell the events of the evening, Athelstan stared into his tea, trying to drown the boy's voice out while the hot steam warmed his face. His thoughts swirled around Ragnar, outlined by the light as he so effortlessly sank his axe into another man's neck. How easy it was for him to snuff out someone's flame.

"We need to find him as quickly as possible", Siggy's voice broke through Athelstan's daze. The young teacher looked up, scanning the grim faces in the room. Bjorn's attention was on Rollo. Hvitserk, Ubbe and Sigurd were exchanging worried looks and Ivar was still staring into nothingness, holding his knees firmly to his chest.

"We should call the cops", Athelstan said, gripping the tea mug so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Rollo let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head at Athelstan.

"They'll only make things worse", he said bitterly. The look on his face sent an unpleasant shiver down Athelstan's spine. Rollo seemed ready to kill someone once Athelstan had mentioned the police and the teacher wondered what had happened. Surely the cops were supposed to help? Athelstan had never believed anything else and so he stayed quiet, waiting for Rollo to illustrate his point but the man remained silent. Luckily, Siggy picked up on the questionmarks floating around Athelstan's head. She sighed heavily.

"What do you know about Ragnar?", she asked him. There was a sad undertone in her question and Athelstan felt the anxiety surge through his veins. What did he get himself into?

"Uhm", he hesitated, "his father was an abusive idiot, his girlfriend — Aslaug, I think — died recently and he is definitely involved in some shady business", Athelstan reiterated his limited knowledge about Ragnar. Rollo scoffed.

“ _Involved_ ”, he spat. “My baby brother was not forced to witness a murder and then run for his life at twelve years old for you to say that he is _involved_ in shady business”, Rollo pressed out between gritted teeth, anger barely contained in his voice. Athelstan gulped, his hands started to tremble slightly. Men of Rollo’s (and by extent Ragnar’s) appearance were more than intimidating to Athelstan when they were angry and Rollo was pissed.

“I’m sorry”, Athelstan stuttered, not sure what else to say. “I didn't mean to...he just never — well, he tried to not tell me a thing.” And then it dawned on Athelstan. There was a reason why Ragnar had told him such horrible things so harshly. There was a reason why they had pressured him into trying out combat sports. “He tried to protect me”, Athelstan whispered shakily. Rollo nodded. “You mean something to Ragnar and, whether he wants to or not, you are neck deep into this mess and you need to know everything that we know”, Rollo said, putting an arm around Bjorn to pull him closer. Siggy collected Hvitserk, Ubbe and Sigurd in her arms and Ivar let himself fall against Athelstan’s side, who reflexively put an arm around the boy. 

“We need to call Floki and Helga”, Siggy mumbled to her husband. “First, Athelstan needs to know why there can’t be cops involved”, Rollo mumbled back and took a deep breath. Athelstan was sure he had never been this tense in his entire life. The most illegal thing he had done was smoking marijuana and now he was faced with murder and possibly more with no way of escape. 

“Ragnar was really young when he met Lagertha”, Rollo started and Bjorn smiled softly. “It was the first time I ever saw him truly happy, even though he was worried about putting her in danger. I told him to tell Lagertha everything — Ragnar did and she decided to stay. She was a little older than him and knew more of the world I suppose. Told him to go to the cops and press charges, because those people that hunt him now — we believe they tried to use him as a messenger boy. They just weren’t prepared for the fight he put up. So, Ragnar made a statement to the police. They asked him to describe their faces but he could not remember and then they put us all into witness protection. Ragnar and Lagertha felt safe for a few years. Hell, they built a family”, Rollo pulled Bjorn even closer, “which was more of an accident, but they were happy, but then one day, it all changed. People broke into their house. They separated Ragnar from Lagertha and Gyda — their daughter —and killed the two. They had beaten Ragnar within an inch of his life but somehow he still managed to call me. He could only whisper the word _Help_ and Floki and I _ran_. It was a close call, but obviously he made it. We asked the cops how this could have happened — we were in witness protection after all — and they said that they did not know. We think that’s a load of bullshit and Ragnar agrees. There’s a mole in the police department. It’s what we suspected, to be honest, but these fuckers outright told Ragnar when they attacked again during summer”, Rollo finished. His voice was strangely emotionless as he spoke, as if he was trying to ban the unpleasant feelings from his mind. Athelstan could only gape at him with an open mouth.

“It’s all we know”, Siggy said with a shrug. “Ragnar refuses to tell us more. He always says that it’s the last hope for us to stay out of this”, she mumbled. Athelstan nodded as he mulled the information over in his head, trying to make sense of it all. The silence was only interrupted by one of the boys slurping their drinks or their nails clicking against the ceramic of the cup. Suddenly, Athelstan sprang out of his seat.

“I need to call Judith!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...someone tried to argue with me today that Ragnar, canonically, is 100% straight and I'm just like........did we watch the same show, my dude?


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan learns a bit more of the situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all are having a wonderful start of the week :)

“Who’s Judith?”, Rollo asked. “We can’t be involving any more people in this!” Athelstan fumbled with his phone, only half listening. “Judith’s ex-husband is in the department. Maybe she knows some things”, he muttered as he tried to find her contact information in his phone. Rollo rolled his eyes.

“Fine, she might actually be useful”, he said, getting up from his spot on the floor. “I’ll call Floki and Helga”, Rollo announced before he left to go to another room. Athelstan could feel Siggy’s expectant eyes on him as he raised the phone to his ears. 

“Athelstan!”, Judith shouted through the phone and he had to cringe at her volume. “I’ve been trying to call you for hours! I was worried, you daft potato!”, she said exasperated and Athelstan mentally face-palmed himself. 

“Ah, fuck. You have a child now, huh? I’m so sorry, I forgot”, he asked a little awkwardly.

“Yes, I do. Not important, though. What’s going on? You sound strange?”, Judith asked, her voice suddenly going soft. Athelstan had to say that he was very impressed by her skill to pick up on tiny mood changes so quickly. (And also the ability to just gloss over the fact that she had just given birth.)

“I can’t tell you too much”, Athelstan sighed, dragging an exhausted hand across his face. “Just...Ragnar had some  _ encounters _ leading to witness protection, which failed miserably”, he tried to explain, giving away as little information as possible. “If I remember, Aethelwulf and Aelle are both in that department, right?”, he asked. Athelstan walked around the room in small circles, chewing his fingernails and occasionally shooting a look at Siggy. Rollo had returned and was now leaning in the doorway, watching Athelstan with an intrigued gaze.

“Well, Aethelwulf still is”, Judith pondered. “Aelle got laid off. There was some disaster with a family getting killed. Only the father and son — “, she suddenly cut herself off and Athelstan stopped dead in his tracks.

“Oh my god”, they said in unison, utter disbelief in their voices. Everyone else in the room sat up a little straighter. “What is it?”, Rollo asked, concern and anger in his voice and on his face. Athelstan held out a hand to calm him down.

“You reckon that he..?”, Athelstan questioned. Judith sighed. “Listen, Athelstan, I don’t know for sure, but I do know that my ex-husband and my father are both assholes and definitely could pull off something like this”, she said. “I’m sorry but I have a child that demands my attention. If you need anything, call me. I can get you some insider information”, Judith informed him before a baby started to cry in the background and she hung up the phone. 

“What? What did she say?”, Rollo asked frantically. He approached Athelstan and gripped his shoulder tightly. The young teacher was stunned for a moment, his mouth moving, looking for the words to come out. 

“If we need to we can get some intel from her”, he stuttered out after Rollo had loosened his grip a little. “Her father was most likely involved and her ex-husband as well”, Athelstan reiterated the conversation he had had over the phone. Rollo let his arms fall from Athelstan’s shoulders, bringing his hands up to massage his temples. “We need to find Ragnar quickly, don’t we? If we want to get him back”, Athelstan gulped, “ _ alive _ .” Rollo shook his head. 

“They won’t kill him”, he said. Athelstan was impressed at how sure he sounded. From what he had gathered, lives were at stake here. The wonder must have been evident on his face because for once, Rollo elaborated his statement further. 

“Ragnar is too valuable for them”, he explained. “He was supposed to be the messenger, he has the mark. So, naturally, they think he has the information. And sadly, Ragnar is the only one left alive that could know these things.” 

“Does he have that information?”, Athelstan asked carefully. Navigating this topic was hard. There was so much information missing to make sense of this, and Athelstan had no idea how many questions he could ask without pushing Rollo or Ragnar’s sons — who had been awfully quiet since they arrived here — too far. Instead of Rollo, Siggy spoke up. 

“He might”, she said. “Ragnar did say that, back then, they told him something.” Siggy stood up and walked over to her husband to put a reassuring arm around his waist. Athelstan smiled inwardly as Rollo leaned against her. “He says he does not remember”, she continued. “It’s understandable, though. Traumatic memory loss and all.” There was a sad smile on her face as she explained this to Athelstan.

“What about those people that originally knew that piece of information?”, he wondered aloud and Rollo scoffed at him. “Ragnar killed them”, he said softly, blinking away tears. A weird surge of fear went through Athelstan. He felt his heart shatter and his breath felt a little too shallow. 

“But Ragnar was a  _ child _ ”, he gasped bewildered. It was one thing to know that Ragnar had killed people. It was another to see it actually happen, really, Athelstan thought that Ragnar sinking the axe into that man’s neck was more traumatic than the attempted robbery he had been subjected to. It was a whole different level to know that Ragnar’s first deadly encounter had been at only twelve years old, even if it had been in self-defence. “Why would they target a child for something like this?”, Athelstan whispered, but as soon as he had asked the question the answer popped into his head. Surprisingly, it was Ivar who answered him. 

“Because children look nice”, he said. There was a grin on his face that seemed everything but amused as he spoke. Rollo nodded. “No one suspects a child as a potential messenger for criminal activity”, he added and Athelstan was speechless for a moment, before he found some grim humour in the situation.

“They apparently did not calculate the risk of coming across Ragnar”, he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Rollo and Siggy huffed out a humourless laugh, but Ragnar’s sons seemed to mull the statement over before there was enthusiastic agreement.

“Yes! Those assholes should be afraid of him!”, Ivar yelled, uncurling himself as he raised his fist in a manner of victory. He was met with affirming wolf-howls by his brothers, and even Bjorn, who had seemed lost in thought the whole time, joined in. They were only interrupted by a knock on the door. The whole room froze, falling into silence as they all held their breath. The knock sounded again, this time in a distinct pattern. Rollo was the first to breathe again. 

“Floki is here”, he announced, walking over to the door. “Let’s get to work.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnars response to his situations is not quite appropriate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess a quick warning for violence, and some sexual innuendos? (is that what an innuendo is? idk, english is not my first language but i guess you know what i mean :D)
> 
> have fun!

A cold hard floor was the first thing Ragnar felt when he regained consciousness. The second thing was an equally as cold — if not colder — metal chain that constricted his movement. His upper arms were tightly bound to his body, while his hands were tied behind his back by the same chain. Weirdly enough, his legs were free to move. The third thing he felt was pain. A pounding headache, barely scabbed over wounds from the fight and the weird angle at which his arms had been twisted back. 

Ragnar groaned as he opened his eyes and bright light blinded him for a second, resulting in an even worse headache. The world was sideways. Ragnar was incredibly confused for a heartbeat until he realised that he was laying on his side. He had to suppress a humourless laugh as he painfully managed to sit up, using his legs and his own bodyweight as leverage. 

It was impossibly silent as he tried to take in his new environment. Great, so shouting for help would be useless if there was no sound of life to be heard in broad daylight. Ragnar was sitting in the middle of what he filed away as an empty factory building. The ceiling was high above him, the disgusting neon lights were uselessly turned on as dark clouds drifted past the large windows. Ragnar was impressed at the complete and utter emptiness of the room. Save for a few old pipes — some of which he had been chained to — and some yellow papers, Ragnar was the only other thing in the room — an abandoned production hall was a more fitting term, Ragnar thought. 

Even though the silence was unnerving, Ragnar decided to savour it. He had no way of knowing how long it would last and if he would ever get it back once it was gone. Sitting like this was extremely tiring and Ragnar wished he had something to lean against but the walls were far away from him. Trying to scoot closer might attract unwanted attention and besides, he was not even sure if the chains used to keep him in place would reach that far. He thought about lying down for a second but considering the way he was tied up, there was no comfortable way to go about this. So, his only choice was to sit in silence and wait. 

Ragnar was almost dozing off again — a strange occurrence considering his usual sleeplessness and the situation he was currently in, and he could only blame it on the remnants of the drug in his system — when a clamor of voice forced him awake again. Steps echoed off the empty wall and Ragnar went rigid with fear. He flinched when a metal door he had not even noticed was thrown open, banging against the concrete wall. Aelle entered his line of vision, an entourage of masked people following him. The man hauled Ragnar to his feet, pushing him roughly against the wall that Ragnar had deemed too far away previously. A familiar pain spread through the left side of his ribcage as he hit the wall. Ragnar bit back a groan as Aelle’s hand tightly wrapped around his throat. 

“Thought you could escape me, huh?”, Aelle asked with venom in his voice but Ragnar could only focus on the little drops of spit that were dripping from the man’s lips. He made a face of disgust before Aelle’s hand squeezed tighter. 

“Answer me!”, he yelled. His face was so close that Ragnar could feel his hot breath on his skin. It was nauseating and he would have turned his face away if it had not been for Aelle’s grip on him. 

“Keep that shit up and I might just kiss you”, Ragnar whispered as well as he could. The lack of oxygen made his voice hoarse and raspy but Aelle reeled back and Ragnar choked in a breath, a dark laugh passing his lips. “You kidnapped a bisexual with daddy issues and you’re surprised that he has a choking kink”, Ragnar said, feigning indifference. There was stifled laughter from one of the masked people, cut off by the harsh slap that almost threw Ragnar off his feet. There was blood pooling in his mouth, and a few wounds on his face started to bleed again

“You’re fucking disgusting!”, Aelle spat at him. Ragnar grinned, before he spat out blood, slowly turning his head to face Aelle again. 

“Ooooh”, he teased. “Degradation! You’re a kinky bastard, Aelle”, he grinned with blood coating his teeth. Ragnar ran his tongue over them to clean them off. “Have you tried therapy instead?”, he asked, putting on an almost concerned face. He was putting up a wonderful show, he thought to himself. No one had noticed that his heart was beating so fast that he feared it would leap out of his ribcage. No one had noticed that panic was threatening to close up his throat every time he spoke. No one had noticed his skin was crawling with the proximity of the other man. 

He almost welcomed the pain as Aelle threw him to the floor, delivering harsh kicks to his body. There would not be an inch of his body left that was not covered in cuts or bruises if he ever made it out alive. But just as suddenly as it started, the assault was over. Aelle towered over him, as Ragnar slowly tried to raise his head to look at him. The world started to spin with the movement and with a groan he rested his cheek against the cold floor, casting his eyes up to Aelle instead. 

“Next time you better talk”, Aelle threatened as he looked at Ragnar with pure disgust and fury in his eyes. Ragnar smiled up at him through bloody teeth. “Faen ta deg”, he said sweetly and Aelle began to seethe with rage. 

“We’ll show you! Just you wait!”, he pressed out between gritted teeth. With a grunt, he drove his foot one last time into Ragnar’s ribcage before he turned around and started to walk away. Instead of groaning in pain, Ragnar started to laugh. He was not sure why, but a deep hearty laugh was building in his chest and he just had to let it out. The action worsened the pain he was in, but he supposed it was better than crying. Aelle turned around again, looking confused as he watched Ragnar laugh. He rolled onto his back, even though it put an uncomfortable pressure on his arms, but the change in position took some of the strain away from his ribs. It was easier to breathe and another wave of laughter washed over him. 

They had physical control over him, he was powerless, he knew that. There was no way for him to escape without help. Still, he refused to let that last spark of defiance die. He refused to give them mental control, refused to let them snuff out the spark. Ragnar had to keep that last bit of control if he ever wanted to slowly fan that spark into a flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation
> 
> Faen ta deg. - Fuck you.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar has a hard time trying to stay sane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's like three lines of dialogue in this chapter...wow.
> 
> hope y'all are well :)

Ragnar had been left alone for two days. He was sure of it because he had watched the moon appear and disappear twice. It was absolute hell to be left alone. He was freezing and he was hungry. The blood had dried on his shirt that had several holes and it was now uncomfortably stiff. His black sweatpants were not any more comfortable or whole, but at least he could not see the blood. By now, he had become numb to the coolness of the concrete floor and the metal chains. The worst thing about all of this, though, was the complete and utter silence. There had been an occasional shout somewhere in the building, some clamouring and some birds that had sung their songs, but other than that, there was nothing. The silence was deafening to Ragnar. Every time the chaos in his head got too much, he painfully forced himself to his feet and walked around the hall as far as the chains would allow. It was not much but kicking around little pieces of debris and hearing it skitter across the floor, trying to find a rhythm to the sound, was easy enough distraction. That was, until weeks of exhaustion and the toll of recent events hit him all at once and his legs had suddenly given out underneath him. Ragnar had collapsed to the floor with no way of catching himself, renewing almost every injury on his body. 

Now, he was leaning against the wall he had been pushed up against two days ago with his eyes closed. To an outsider, he would have appeared to be sleeping, but in his head he was desperately imagining the faces and smiles of his loved ones. Of Rollo, Floki, Lagertha, Gyda, Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, Ivar. Even Aslaug and Athelstan. He kept repeating their names, muttering them under his breath as he tried his best to not spiral into madness. Ragnar paused once he had whispered Athelstan’s name. The man was an enigma to him, he thought as his mind swirled around the teacher. 

They had known each other for several years and yet they had been strangers. Only seeing each other from afar, only talking about Ragnar’s sons. And then everything happened so quickly. One moment he had saved Athelstan from getting killed and the next they were watching the sunrise. It seemed like Ragnar had only blinked before he was sprinting through the rain, talking to Athelstan on the phone so that he would not lose himself in a panic attack. And then, just a heartbeat later, they were sitting on Athelstan’s floor, their face getting closer and closer. Athelstan had just let his fingertips ghost across his cheek and Ragnar had reeled back in shock — too many, too fresh memories of unwanted touches clouding his mind. The worst part had been that Athelstan had  _ understood  _ him. Ragnar had let himself feel safe with him, and he had revealed hidden parts of himself that he had never wanted to see again. And Athelstan had been  _ there _ , he had comforted him. 

Ragnar’s eyes shot open when he felt the phantom touch of Athelstan’s hand at the base of his skull. A shiver ran down his spine but for once, it was not unpleasant, it was not unwanted. The sensation was comforting to Ragnar and he became hyper-aware of the weight of Athelstan's cross around his neck. 

Ragnar never wore jewelery, save for the metal arm ring that often laid around his wrist — a bond between Rollo, Floki and him. The cross had been gone when he first woke up but after Aelle had left him alone, a shadow had hesitantly split from the black mass, a golden shimmer in their hand. Ragnar had stiffened when they laid the golden chain around his neck and carefully tucked it under his shirt. Now, as he was sitting all alone and in complete silence, he was glad to feel the cross that was gently resting against his chest. It was his anchor to reality.

This time, he did not even react when the door flew open. Ragnar slowly opened his eyes to see two people approaching him. The masks were perhaps the most unnerving part about them. Despite Ragnar’s troubles with consciously recognising faces, he would have liked to at least have the opportunity to revisit the images in his head and try to match a voice to a face in retrospect. 

“Get up!”, a male voice yelled at him. Ragnar turned to face him, utterly expressionless. He welcomed the distraction from the deafening noise in his head but he still refused to succumb to these people. Judging by their statures, both of his visitors appeared to be male and Ragnar really had no clue what to do with this information. He was not stupid enough to think that he could overpower a woman or that somehow male personell would make things harder on him. Both were equally strong and could be equally cruel, he thought. He blinked to cut off his thoughts. He really needed to focus on the situation at hand and not internally debate gender stereotypes. 

“Are you deaf?”, the man yelled again. “I told you to get up!” He approached Ragnar with sure steps that were supposed to intimidate the captive. Ragnar was thinking about giving them the satisfaction of scaring him but he was too exhausted to be intimidated.

The man was now standing in front of Ragnar, reaching out as if he wanted to pull him to his feet and drag him along to wherever they were meant to go. Ragnar glared at him. “Ta på meg og jeg skal bite deg”, he said lowly, his voice rough from the lack of use. The green eyes that were still visible through the mask held a confused expression for just a heartbeat before he latched his hand onto Ragnar’s shoulder to haul him up. With a growl Ragnar whipped his head around and sank his teeth into the man’s wrist until he tasted blood. A scream of pain erupted from the man’s throat as he quickly pulled his wrist out of Ragnar’s jaw, who purposefully clamped his teeth down so that he would create deep-set and long wounds. The other man, who had resolved to keep his distance to Ragnar, snickered.

“Forgot to tell ya. He bites”, he said with a heavy southern American accent. The familiarity of the voice and accent made Ragnar’s entire body freeze up. Screams flashed through his mind, a sudden wave of panic threatening to drown him. Ragnar refused his own mind, focusing on the weight of the cross that was resting against his chest, feeling the way the golden chain wrapped around his neck. 

He smiled at them, an almost innocent expression had it not been for the blood that coated his teeth and trickled down his chin. For a moment, no one moved and Ragnar could hear the droplets of blood, that fell from the man’s wrist, hit the floor. The American with the heavy accent charged forward and pulled Ragnar to his feet. He was too caught off guard to defend himself a second time as they dragged him through the doorway. Mental control, he screamed in his head despite the terror running through his veins. His smile turned into a bloody grin that never faltered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation
> 
> Ta på meg og jeg skal bite deg. - Touch me and I will bite you.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well, Ragnar's screwed.  
> (spot the pun)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 points to your hogwarts house if you can spot the reference that has nothing to do with harry potter :'D

The American was digging his fingers hard into Ragnar’s shoulders. He had somehow wrenched his arm through the chains that Ragnar had been tied with, resulting in Ragnar’s limbs being lifted at a painful angle. He hated how the man’s fingers felt on his shoulder and the way his other hand was holding onto his hip brought along terrorizing flashes of memories as he stumbled along a corridor and then down a flight of stairs.

They stopped in front of another door and the man with the bleeding wrist banged against it three times. Ragnar’s back was hurting from the strange posture he had been forced to walk in but he was still glad for the hand momentarily leaving his hip. He tried turning his head but the green-eyed shadow roughly pushed his head back as blood dripped from his wrist and ran down Ragnar’s neck. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see black fabric hitting the floor and the hand returned to his hip, nails digging into the skin. Ragnar bit back a whimper when suddenly the tip of a nose ghosted along his neck and a hot breath tickled his skin. 

Ragnar was about to slam his foot back into the American when the door was opened. “Finally! We’ve been waiting”, a female voice said. Ragnar tried his best to look up at the tall woman in front of him but he could not see anything, save for the standard black ski-mask that everyone except for the American was wearing. Ragnar had not seen his face since he took off his mask, still he knew exactly what the man looked like. A face that haunted him almost every night. He had cried when he retrospectively went through the happenings of Aslaug’s death and finally processed the faces that his mind had previously glossed over. 

Ragnar stumbled into the room. It was smaller than the hall he had been in — might have been an office, he thought when he was finally allowed to move his head again. “You got some gauze?”, the green-eyed man asked the woman. “Fucker bites like a rabid cur.” Stifling a laugh, Ragnar decided to take that as a compliment. A harsh shove pushed him to his knees and the American still kept a firm hand in the labyrinth of chains. 

“Don’t be such a pussy next time”, the woman said harshly as she rummaged through a desk drawer and threw a first aid kit at the green-eyed shadow. With a long sigh she pulled the mask from her face, letting it fall onto the desk. Ragnar refused to look at her, keeping his eyes trained on a small window, watching the birds fly by. The woman graciously walked over to him and bent down slightly. She gently grabbed his jaw, turning his head left and right to examine his face. As he was forced to look at her, he was glad that it was another unknown face. The presence of the American was more than enough to keep him even more on edge. She let go of him.

“Aelle wants the intell as fast as possible”, she said, turning her back to him as she walked back to the desk. “The instructions are to not kill him”, she told them with a dark snicker. Ragnar felt the heavy hand of the American on his neck. He would always recognize this man’s hand. The sensation of the large scar on his palm grazing Ragnar’s skin was not something he could ever forget. 

“We’ll have our fun”, he said with his southern accent, his fingers stroking Ragnar’s neck like one might do to a dog.  _ Like a rabid cur _ , Ragnar thought grimly. The woman hummed in acknowledgement before she took an important looking document and walked past Ragnar and out of the door with sure steps, slamming it shut behind her. 

“Alright, you bastard”, the American said, tightening his grip on Ragnar’s neck. He tried to wrench himself out of the grip but it only led to fingernails digging harshly into his skin. Ragnar winced when he was pulled to his feet again. They really could not decide whether they wanted him to stand or kneel, Ragnar thought. Perhaps it was just a means of keeping him on edge, making him more exhausted, more unsure. 

Once again, he was roughly slammed into a wall, a pain flaring up in his left side as the screw of an old heating pipe pierced through the skin on his back. Ragnar tried his best to ignore the warm trickle of blood that ran down his spine as the American stood in front of him, pushing his forearm down on his throat. Desperately avoiding to look at the man’s face, Ragnar focused all his attention on the tip of the man’s nose. If he had to make eye contact, he would spiral so far into insanity that he might never recover. 

“Do you have any  _ fucking  _ idea how much money is at stake here?!”, the American yelled at him. Ragnar scowled when small drops of spit hit his face. 

“Jeg bryr meg ikke”, Ragnar rasped, lifting his chin to reduce the pressure on his throat. The American growled at him before he threw a punch at Ragnar’s face, his head slamming into the pipes and wall he was pressed against. Ragnar refused to show his pain, only scrunching up his nose when he felt the blood flow out. 

“Hvor original”, he grumbled, defiantly rolling his eyes. Ragnar was determined to never let them know his true feelings. His thoughts were revolving around his family, only barely concerned for his own safety. He hoped with every cell in his body that they were safe and although he wished they would search for him and get him out of here, he would rather die than put them into any more danger.

“I’ll show you  _ original, _ fucker”, the American growled. Ragnar sighed in resignation — he tried to anyway, with the arm still on his throat. The man was not pressing down hard enough to actually choke him but those insults were really getting boring. 

“Yo, Dan, let’s show him how we make people talk, huh?”, the American called out to his companion. Ragnar shivered at the malicious tone in his voice. He admitted, he feared what was about to come but he would never let it show. He would bite back every scream of pain, he would not give them any satisfaction. 

The American took his arm from his throat and Ragnar let his head hang low, just so that he would not have to look at his face. His heart was beating too fast and despite the physical pressure being lifted from his throat, he still struggled to breathe. Swallowing thickly, Ragnar mouthed the names of his loved ones — making sure to not let any sound out — and put his entire focus on the cross that laid cold against his skin. 

The chains around his upper body suddenly tightened painfully. Ragnar was unable to expand his lungs to breath properly as the metal pressed into him. The screw that was digging into his back scraped across his skin and Ragnar bit his tongue to hide a groan, still thankful that the object was finally removed from his spine. Too lost in his own world, he was not entirely sure what had happened, but when he raised his head to take the new situation in, he gulped heavily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations
> 
> Jeg bryr meg ikke. - I do not care.
> 
> Hvor original. - How original
> 
> idk why but the thought of Ragnar only speaking norwegian and these dudes only getting frustrated his very funny to me :D


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar knows that they won't kill him and now he makes it everyone's problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might or might not be loosely based on season 4.....not sure if this warrants a graphic violence warning but just to be sure, ig?
> 
> me and the english language were really at war today lmao, still hope you enjoy :)

Ragnar was tightly bound to the heating pipes. The American standing in front of him twirled a knife in his hand, talking to his companion but Ragnar drowned them out. He focused on the way the light reflected off the blade as it whirled through the air and landed in the man’s gloved hand. It would have been beautiful had it not been for the certainty that it would soon be covered in Ragnar’s blood. Ragnar was not scared. Although he did not fear death, it was somehow comforting to know that there was a slim chance that he would get to see his boys again. Holding onto that tiny sliver of hope forced him to not lose his mind, it forced him to stay strong. 

The rattling of more chains pulled him out of his thoughts. As he tried to take a breath to steel himself, the green-eyed shadow — Dan, as he had previously learned — quickly wrapped another chain around his neck and the pipes, pulling it tightly. Ragnar choked, his mouth hanging slightly ajar as he desperately attempted to inhale. Dark spots danced at the edge of his vision but he refused to give in. Ragnar gritted his teeth to form a feral grin, forcing himself to relentlessly stare into the man’s green eyes. 

“Dan, that’s enough!”, the American yelled just as Ragnar felt his eyes roll back. “We need him awake.” For a split second, Dan tugged the chain a little tighter before he let up with a frustrated grumble. Ragnar coughed, wheezing in a breath and spit the saliva that had collected in his mouth to the floor. “Almost had him, Marsh”, Dan said quietly, backing off. He left the chain hanging around Ragnar’s neck. For future purposes, he supposed. 

The American did not acknowledge his partner's words as he slowly approached Ragnar. “You think you’re strong?”, he asked, putting the point of the knife under Ragnar’s chin. Ragnar did not answer, still trying to catch his breath as well as he could. “I asked you a question!”, the American — Marsh, if he had heard correctly — yelled at him. The tip of the knife momentarily left his skin, just for Marsh to slap him. Ragnar tasted blood in his mouth but he still kept his face expressionless. So far, he had had worse. He should write a letter of gratitude for his father, Ragnar mused with a dark sense of humour. Marsh grinned at him as he dragged the tip of the knife along his cheek, drawing blood. The cut barely stung and Ragnar still kept his eyes focused on Marsh's nose, creating the impression that he was making direct eye-contact but still did not dare to do it. It was easy to stare into Dan’s venomously green eyes — he had never seen him before. But Ragnar and Marsh had history and it had always ended badly on Ragnar’s part. And to be fair, it was very satisfying to Ragnar to see the small missing piece of the man’s nose that Ragnar had bitten out when Marsh had come too close a few weeks ago. (It had not stopped the man back then but it still brought a sick sense of pride to Ragnar.)

“So he wants to stay quiet?”, Dan chirped in the same tone one would use to talk to a pet. Ragnar rolled his eyes. “Vil du at jeg skal bite deg igjen?”, he rasped bitterly, his attention now on Dan and not on Marsh. The Brit — judging by his accent — cocked his head to the side in confusion and Ragnar’s grin widened. Foreign languages were such a wonderful power to have in this situation — a tiny bit of freedom they could not take from him. 

Dan had not learned from his previous mistakes. He reached his hand out — for what reason, Ragnar did not know but he did not care — and Ragnar surged forward as well as he could, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of his hand for a second time. Dan howled in pain as Marsh roughly shoved Ragnar’s head back, resulting in the same scraping wounds the Brit already had on his wrist. Ragnar had to admit, he was slowly coming to enjoy the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. 

“We should pull his teeth out”, Dan grumbled, glaring at him as he cradled his hand to his chest. Marsh snorted. “Learn from your fucking mistakes and wear gloves, you genius”, he said with resignation in his tone. He was right. Marsh was wearing leather gloves and Ragnar would not dare to try and bite him. He knew he could not pierce through the material and so he would not waste his energy. 

Dan revealed another knife, twirling the blade in the light as if he was contemplating its existence. Ragnar seriously wished they would just hurry up and torture him until he passed out and not make this any longer than it needed to be. The Brit flipped the knife — Ragnar sighed in exasperation, almost boredom — before he gripped it tightly and poked it into Ragnar’s cheek, not yet drawing blood. 

“Tell us the coordinates and this will be over soon.” Dan had leaned forward to whisper the words into Ragnar’s ears. He gently dragged the knife along Ragnar’s neck, applying pressure once he had reached his collarbone. The knife left a trail of blood down his chest, maneuvering through the chains and stopping right below his ribs. Ragnar kept his gaze trained on the Brit, refusing to look at the knife pressed to his side. This time, the cuts hurt. They were deeper than the wound on his cheek but Ragnar bit his tongue and wiped all emotions off his face. 

“Aw, come on! Not even a tiny sigh?”, Marsh cooed at him as he put a little more force on the knife that was under Ragnar’s chin, forcing him to raise his head slightly. “Let me change that”, the American whispered. Ragnar felt the blade leave his chin, just to feel a burning sensation right where his heart was. 

Marsh was more skilled with the knife than his companion. Ragnar was a mess, his lip and tongue bitten bloody but he had yet to let out a scream. His chest was covered with small and large incisions made by Marsh’s knives — and he had a lot of them, all with different blades and for what had probably been hours, he had not gotten bored of using them. The American was getting increasingly frustrated with Ragnar’s silence, while Dan stood back, watching the scene in wonder. Ragnar was only barely conscious. The blood loss made him drowsy and his head was threatening to fall to his chest, the chain still loosely hanging around his neck, but he fought with everything he had to keep his head held high. He did not want to see the mess of cuts across his body, slicing into his tattoos and adding to the web of scars permanently etched into his skin.

“I swear to God, I will make you scream and if it is the last thing I do”, Marsh growled, face to face with Ragnar. 

“Prøv meg, tispe”, he whispered. For a split second, Ragnar made eye-contact with Marsh before he drew his head back and slammed it against the American’s face. With pained yelp, the man stepped away, holding a hand to his bleeding nose. Ragnar grinned tiredly, watching the blood flow through Marsh’s hands.

“One too many times, Lothbrok”, Marsh roared, the knife he was still holding flew out of his hand. Ragnar could only gasp when the weapon sank deep into the side of his stomach, momentarily feeling the hilt of the knife against his skin more than the blade currently stuck in him. What a strange sensation, Ragnar thought as his eyelids fluttered. Marsh narrowed his eyes at him before he grabbed his companion by the collar and pulled him out of the room. Ragnar let himself hang into the chains that were holding him up, only now registering the pain of the knife lodged into the side of his stomach. If he was being honest, the pain helped. It was something to concentrate on, something to make him forget the future and make him stop thinking about when Dan and Marsh would return. 

Ragnar had almost drifted off into the warm darkness of unconsciousness when the two men barged into the office again. Adrenaline rushed through his veins and Ragnar forced himself to stand a little straighter again, gathering all the strength he had left. The world was blurry around him, he only barely saw Marsh standing in front of him. The American put a heavy hand on his shoulder and Ragnar was forced to bite back a pained groan when Marsh pulled the knife out of his stomach. It might have been a phantom sensation but Ragnar thought he felt the blood flow out of the wound, running down to his hip and seeping into the hem of his pants. The action had cleared up the world and the contours were perhaps a little too sharp but Ragnar kept his attention on Marsh. Dan stood back once more, almost hidden by his American companion. 

“We don’t want you bleeding out now, do we?”, Marsh said sweetly. The man half-turned to Dan and Ragnar used the opportunity to let his head droop for just a second. He immediately straightened when he registered Marsh turning again at the edge of his vision. Ragnar trained his eyes on the man’s deformed nose again, not sure if the smoke rising into his eyes was real or imagination. He also was not sure if the sudden warmth he felt was real.

However, Ragnar was sure that the blinding hot pain on his stomach and the strange sizzling noise were real. Marsh pressed the hot iron hard against his skin — a perfect way of cauterising the stab wound and inflicting even more pain. Ragnar could not help the small grunt that escaped him through gritted teeth. 

It was another match of power — just like the one Dan had started — and Ragnar refused to submit. Marsh let out a frustrated growl once he realised Ragnar’s perseverance. Ragnar was sure that the American would kill him the first chance he got but right now, he had the upper hand because they were forced to keep him alive. 

The hot iron clattered on the floor and once more, Ragnar let out a heartfelt laugh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations
> 
> Vil du at jeg skal bite deg igjen? - Do you want me to bite you again?
> 
> Prøv meg, tispe. - Try me, bitch.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan has been made.

“Are we sure that this is going to work?”, Athelstan asked hesitantly as they sat around the table, eating breakfast. He was nervously ripping apart his toast, dipping it into his baked beans. In the last four days Floki, Helga, the boys and Athelstan had been cooped up in Rollo’s and Siggy’s house, calling in Judith over the phone occasionally to devise a plan. 

“No, but we don’t have any more ideas”, Roll sighed. “And we’re running out of time. I fear that they might accidentally kill him.” Athelstan looked up from his beans. He had not considered that. If Ragnar was still as defiant as he had been that night, there was a strong possibility that he would provoke his captors a little too much. Athelstan did not want to think too deeply about it, desperately holding onto the belief that Ragnar would be alive and well when they found him.

“I’ll do it”, Athelstan said, taking a deep breath. He chewed a piece of toast, just to give him a slightly distracting sensation. There was a collective relieved sigh. “We’ll join too!”, Ivar said decidedly. “He’s our father!”

“Ivar, you are a child!”, Helga protested. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” Ivar just shrugged, gnawing on his toast when Bjorn chimed in. “Ivar has a point, though”, he said, sounding as if he had thought about this in great detail. “If only Athelstan goes back to school it’ll be suspicious and they might come here. We need to go back with him”, Bjorn explained. He was right, Athelstan had to admit, but he still did not like the idea that these children would be put into any more danger. 

“No, Bjorn. We cannot let you do that”, Floki held against the boy. “Ragnar needs you here. He needs to know you’re safe.”

“We’re not safe until Dad’s here with us!”, Sigurd argued, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leaned back in his chair. Ubbe nodded in agreement and Hvitserk stood up. “You can’t stop all of us!”, he challenged, a defiant glint in his eyes. Sometimes, Athelstan found it hard to believe that Ragnar’s sons were still children. They were fierce, ready to risk it all. Athelstan did not know what their mothers had been like, but their father’s rebellious nature was mirrored in them. Rollo sighed exasperated, his face in his hands. 

“You really are your father’s children”, he mumbled into his hands. “Fine. If Athelstan is willing to take you, you can go. But if Ragnar rips my head off it is your fault.” Ivar giggled into his tea upon hearing Rollo’s words. All eyes were now expectantly on Athelstan. He needed a moment to make up his mind. The plan was easy enough; get kidnapped, find the location to barge in with weapons stolen from the police station, find Ragnar, fuck shit up and run. They would have to try to keep the kids out of the fighting but depending on Ragnar’s condition, they would maybe spark up some lost strength in him. 

“I’ll take them”, Athelstan said decidedly. Ragnar’s sons grinned in satisfaction, not noticing — or choosing to ignore — the worried and grim looks of the adults. 

Rollo stood up, motioning for Athelstan to follow him. The teacher did as he was told, his heart hammering in his chest. Things were about to get real. Athelstan had really wanted to discover what had made Ubbe so incredibly silent on his first day of school. He had wanted to know why Bjorn had been so easy to irritate. He had wanted to know why Ragnar had been so incredibly nervous and apologetic in their few meetings. Now that he knew, Athelstan was not sure just how much of this he could stomach. 

“Here”, Rollo ripped him out of his thoughts. He was holding out a black ring to him. Athelstan hesitantly took it and put it on his finger. “It has a tracking device”, Rollo explained. “We can track your every step as long as you wear it.” Athelstan nodded silently, looking at the piece of jewelry, suddenly not so sure about this anymore. 

“People will die”, he whispered, looking up at Rollo. 

“People did already die, Athelstan”, Rollo said grimly. “They mentally destroyed my brother. He has not known a moment of peace in his life, okay? Ragnar needs to know that it’s over, once and for all. It can only happen if they are all dead, he said so himself.” Rollo had avoided Athelstan’s eyes for as long as he spoke, but now he looked firmly at Athelstan. He almost reeled back at the intense but at the same time incredibly soft stare. “Ragnar deserves to finally move on to better things, Athelstan”, he whispered, his voice almost breaking. 

Athelstan was speechless. In his mind he had filed all the horrible things that had happened away as separate events. He had never considered the constant state of fear the Lothbroks had lived in, the constant uncertainty, the inability to form secure relationships and the lack of a safe haven. Athelstan had always taken these things for granted during his life — and he supposed that they should be granted for everyone — but the more time he was spending with this family, the more he realised how wonderful his parents had actually been. (Even if they were a little too religious and sheltered him a little too much.) Athelstan took a deep breath. 

“Let’s do this”, he said. The statement had more confidence that he had expected. There was no guarantee that their plan would work out, not even a guarantee that they would make it out alive and yet, somehow, Athelstan was willing to risk it all for Ragnar. 

“Thank you. You can’t even realise how much this means to all of us, especially to Ragnar”, Rollo smiled, pulling Athelstan in for a hug. He was paralysed for a second before a smile made its way onto his face as well and he returned the warm embrace. 

“Boys, let’s go or we’ll be late”, Athelstan announced with newly found courage when he and Rollo had returned to the living room. The five boys quickly stuffed their last pieces of toast into their mouths and then rushed into the hallway to put on their shoes and jackets. 

“Take care of them, Athelstan”, Floki mumbled behind him. Athelstan flinched at the proximity, wondering how this man could move so quietly. He wondered if he would get the chance to get used to this. Perhaps, if Ragnar let him in a little more…, he thought, quickly shaking his head to ban the thought. That was not important right now. 

“I will, Floki, I will”, he assured quietly, watching as the five said goodbye to everyone in the room. Athelstan wished he could be as excited as they were. Were they old enough to comprehend the stakes? They were all extremely intelligent but they were still very young — the childhood fantasy of immortality and invincibility seemed to make this more of an adventurous journey than a desperate last attempt to end years of torture. 

“Good luck!”, Siggy called out to them as Athelstan shooed the boys out of the door. He smiled and waved at his new friends — he was sure they could be considered friends, after all they had planned a rescue mission together — before he closed the door behind him. The Lothbrok-children rushed to the car, fighting for the best seats. Athelstan would have laughed if the situation had been different but right now he could only sigh as he let himself fall into the driver’s seat

_ Let the hunger games begin _ , he thought grimly as he started the engine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, currently i am going to school in german, writing this in english while simultaneously writing a five page essay on the mayan culture in spanish and taking russian and norwegian classes at the same time and now i speak neither language fluently bc i think in all of them lmao.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan gets kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dayum, when did 40chapters of this happen? i never intended for this to be so long but i don't think i'm close to done :D
> 
> also, thank you so much for more than 1.5k hits!!

Athelstan was tense for the entire ride to school, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. The boys in the back were quiet for the most part, only occasionally whispering to each other and sometimes giggling at things the others had said. He was glad when he finally turned into the school’s parking lot, sending a quick prayer of gratitude to the heavens when he saw that there were no people. Athelstan was not keen on having an unnecessary conversation — there was enough going on as is. 

Athelstan had just turned off the engine and reached over to open the door when it suddenly opened on his own. More confused than scared, he looked up — straight into the barrel of a gun. Turning his eyes away from the weapon, he slowly raised his hands to signal that he would not put up a fight. 

“Athelstan, what — “, Ubbe asked, trying to see what was going on. Bjorn clamped his hand over brother’s mouth, judging by the muffled sounds of protest. 

“Don’t move”, a gruff voice came from behind the gun. Athelstan stayed silent but nodded, trying to calm himself with the fact that this was _supposed_ to happen. They were supposed to get abducted. It was all going to plan. He took a deep breath as the gun finally disappeared, tensing up again when the passenger door suddenly opened and someone sat down next to him. Slowly, Athelstan closed his car door again, turning to look out of the windshield, his hands visible on the steering wheel. Ragnar’s sons were awfully quiet in the backseats and only the heavy breathing of the man next to Athelstan was audible. 

“Start the car”, the voice commanded. Athelstan did as he was told. He caught a glimpse of the black ring he was wearing, having almost forgotten it. It was calming to know that Rollo would always know where he was. Athelstan just hoped that Ragnar would be there too. 

During the drive, the gun was conveniently out of the view of any bypassers but the muzzle was still pointed at Athelstan — most likely to stop him from resisting. There was no intention of going against the very limited instructions that Athelstan got on the way. Afterall, this was part of the plan, Athelstan kept telling himself to not lose his mind at the fact that he was being threatened with a deadly weapon for the second time in merely two weeks. 

The silence was unnerving. Except for the rather rudely delivered directions no one dared to speak and despite the simplicity of them, Athelstan would not have been able to remember them if he was ever forced to take this route again. Slowly but surely, they left the city behind, approaching the emptier and more industrial outskirts. In the rearview mirror he could see the children peer out of the windows, fascination on their faces. They had probably never been here before and as charming as the apocalyptical atmosphere of the mostly abandoned houses and factories was, they would most likely never want to come back here once they had rescued Ragnar.

When Athelstan was told to stop the car, they had arrived at a large industrial complex in which the main production hall was connected to a shipping canal. Ravens circled around the building, sitting on the ledges and metal beams and then plunging to the ground only to soar up into the sky again. A sense of dread formed in Athelstan’s stomach — he had always been told that ravens were an omen of death.

“Odin’s with us”, Ivar whispered under his breath as he put a hand to the car window in wonder. That’s right, Athelstan had to remind himself. Ragnar was a Northman and by descent, his sons were too. Perhaps a flock of ravens in his presence was a good sign — a message of success, perhaps, a signal of strength. Athelstan savoured the thought as the man next to him exited the car. Not sure whether he was meant to follow suit, Athelstan stayed where he was, his hands still visible on the steering wheel. 

The muzzle of the gun banged against his window and Athelstan suppressed a flinch. He turned his head to face his captor. The man motioned him and the children to get out of the car and without protest, they obeyed. Athelstan was impressed at the determination and discipline the boys showed, racking his mind for any parallels in their school behaviour. He felt like the past few days had really explained a lot of behavioral patterns of the boys. It was an irrelevant thought and so he quickly banned it from his head. Athelstan needed to focus. 

Their hands were roughly bound together with zip-ties. Athelstan had half a mind to just tear them apart with his wrist before he reminded himself that this was perhaps the most crucial part to their plan. He swallowed his longing for freedom, his initial anxiety almost turning into anger. 

A strange desire welled up in his heart as the gun muzzle against his back forced him to move forward. He had never been one for violence and destruction but as he let his gaze drift up the building, Athelstan wanted nothing more than to burn it to the ground and then dance on the ashes. 

“Ivar, don’t”, Bjorn whispered to his brother. Ivar was being carried by the man that was holding the gun against Athelstan’s back which meant that he could not see the boy. As much good will as Ivar had, he remained a rebellious nature, Athelstan assumed, and had most likely been about to struggle if Bjorn had not said anything. The other three were awfully quiet as they marched into the building. 

A wave of coldness hit them as they entered and the desire of violence in Athelstan only grew. The building was completely and utterly empty, probably abandoned for years. At the far end of the hall he could see a door leading to a staircase but otherwise there was just an empty floor covered in dust, debris and small glass shards of smashed in windows. A sudden wind surged through the tall broken windows and the gun muzzle left Athelstan back as a howl sounded through the building. For a heartbeat, Athelstan blamed the wind but angry shouts and banging noises followed by a few more pained howls erupted somewhere in the building. 

“Fucking bastard”, the man behind Athelstan breathed. Relief flooded through Athelstan’s body and he could just barely contain the smile that threatened to spread over his face. Ragnar was here. He was alive — and he was giving them hell.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan sees Ragnar again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made a small mistake in chapter 38, i'm so sorry! i was not quite sure about the timeline there and put the two days of planning as a placeholder and forgot to change it! it has been updated to four days! (only means that ragnar has been kidnapped for four days before athelstan let himself be kidnapped)

Athelstan was frozen in place, listening to the shouts that echoed through the building. He tried to identify Ragnar's voice but he had no such luck — every voice sounded foreign to him. The man with the gun made no move to approach the commotion. Instead, he dumped Ivar on the floor — the boy only let out a small noise of protest — and then turned to Athelstan, holding the gun against his head as he watched the main entrance attentively. 

Athelstan was truly overwhelmed. His eyes kept darting back and forth between the door leading to the staircase, the gun pointed at his head and the main entrance. The other boys had gathered around Ivar, huddling together for comfort as they expectantly looked at Athelstan. A figure moved through the main entrance, clad in black, masked and with gloves on their hands. The jumble of voices had faded.

“Where’s your hostage?!”, the man threatening Athelstan asked. Feet moved over the debris, kicking little pebbles across the floor. Resisting the urge to turn his head to the newcomer, Athelstan tried to give Ragnar’s sons a reassuring smile. 

“Aelle called it off”, a female voice said. “The old Lothbrok would be of no value to us”, she explained further. _Were they planning on taking Ragnar’s father hostage?_ , Athelstan asked himself. The man made a questioning sound and his partner elaborated more. “No love lost there. Lothbrok would dance on his old man’s grave”, she said grimly and Athelstan had to bite back a laugh. He could definitely imagine Ragnar throwing a party once his father had died, even though he would most likely feel guilty afterwards but if it ever came down to this, then Athelstan would encourage him to celebrate. 

The man was about to answer when the voices roared up again, seemingly more aggravated than before. With an annoyed sigh, the man took the gun from Athelstan’s forehead and aimed it at the ceiling. A gunshot tore through the noise and everything went silent as a small rain of dust fell down on Athelstan. Worried, he looked over to the young boys but they seemed as if they had not even noticed the noise. Their eyes were intensely focused on the metal door that hid the source of the trouble. 

“Marsh and Dan are really good for nothing”, the woman sighed exasperated, walking past her male counterpart. “Put them in charge two days ago and they still got nothing”, she muttered, crossing the large hall to get to the metal door. 

The man grunted in what Athelstan thought could be a laugh as he watched the woman walk past. In the short moment that the teacher was distracted, the handle of the gun came down hard against his temple. He gasped in pain as he crumpled to his knees, feeling blood run down the side of his face. The world spun around him and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the visual input from causing an even worse headache. 

One of the boys whispered something but neither did Athelstan understand the words nor could he tell who said them. At the edge of his mind he registered the man walking away from him, following the woman who seemed to be higher up in the hierarchy. 

It could not have been long but thanks to the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the pain had faded into a dull pounding as the metal door slammed open. Athelstan’s head that had been drooping on his chest shot up. He could not see more than a black huddle of people. They seemed to struggle as they carried something across the hall. Athelstan blinked, trying to decipher the situation when suddenly chains rattled and a bundle of clothes fell to the floor. The five boys gasped in surprise and Athelstan could not believe his eyes. 

Ragnar Lothbrok.

The bundle of clothes was Ragnar Lothbrok. As someone tried to haul him up again, he kicked hard, throwing the figure off their feet. Ragnar slid underneath a pair of legs, knocking them out from under the man who fell to the floor with a grunt, and, using his sliding momentum, he jumped to his feet. He only faced Athelstan for a short moment, not long enough to register him in the rush of the fight before he jumped around to face his attacker again. Even though Ragnar had not seen Athelstan, the teacher had gotten a good look at him. 

The most noticeable thing were the chains that were tightly tying his arms to his body, his hands fixated behind his back. Ragnar was covered in blood, some of it had dried into a rusty colour while some spots were still fresh and shimmering. During the heartbeat for which Athelstan had seen his face, he had spotted the colourful bruises that were adorning Ragnar’s face where it was not crusted with blood. Darker and more aggressive bruises discoloured his throat and the shirt he was wearing was definitely not his own. Considering the state he was in, Athelstan was impressed that Ragnar could stand and was able to put up a considerate fight. 

Ragnar was slightly swaying on his feet as he took on a boxer stance, non-verbally challenging the black mass of people to attack. Someone threw themselves on him from behind, wrapping their arms around him in order to restrict his movement even more as the block advanced on him. Ragnar seemed unimpressed as he leaned against the body behind him, hauling himself up to kick back everyone that dared to get too close. 

Athelstan risked a glance over to Ragnar’s sons. They watched their father with wide eyes and surprised faces, as if they could not believe what they were witnessing. Ivar was grinning as he watched the scene and Athelstan thought that the boy was a little too excited for danger and violence. 

As Athelstan turned to watch Ragnar again, his strength seemed to be fading slightly. There were now several people holding him. Someone had wrenched his head back in a painful looking angle, covering his eyes with one gloved hand while the other was squeezing his throat. Ragnar’s mouth was slightly ajar as he still used the weight of the people to launch himself into jump-kicks, trying to shake them off him as he slammed his entire body-weight in one direction to make them crash together. 

The mass of people was struggling considerably with the man’s fighting. Athelstan blinked in confusion when he saw a loose piece of chain, shaped like a noose, dangling around Ragnar’s neck that he had not noticed before. Just as he had finished that thought, one of the shadows seemed to notice it as well. Ragnar could not see the hand that reached forward to pull on the chain. It happened so suddenly that Athelstan was not quite sure if he registered everything that happened. The shadow roughly yanked on the chain, tightening it around Ragnar’s neck and he was pulled out of the grasps he was in, toppling to the floor with a quiet grunt. 

Athelstan could feel tears prick in his eyes at the thought, but the scene reminded him too much of a rabid dog being caught and forced back into his place as Ragnar tried to desperately resist the pull of the chain but he was powerless as several boots pressed his throat and ribcage against the floor.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan unfolds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope i'm not breaking the flow too much here but i wanted to give rollo and the gang some screen time at the end :)

For the first time in his life, Athelstan was contemplating murder. He wanted to jump to his feet and run over to help Ragnar by knocking his assailants to the ground. Instead of giving into his violent tendencies, he turned his attention to the children. The five boys looked horrified as they watched Ragnar being pressed to the ground, fighting for air. Athelstan scooted closer to them, trying to give them at least a small sense of comfort. 

“Still haven't talked?”, the man that had threatened Athelstan asked, looking at the man beneath his feet. Ragnar growled low in his throat, managing to turn his head as the pressure on his throat was slightly lifted for a second. His blue eyes were glowing with fury and resistance as he stared up at his captors. “We got something to make you reconsider your stance, dear”, the woman from earlier said, sounding as if she was smiling. The mass of black stepped aside, save for two men that hauled Ragnar to his feet. With a light groan he lifted his head. 

And stared directly at Athelstan. 

Ragnar tore himself away from the men holding him, running towards his sons and Athelstan. No one made a move to stop him as he fell to his knees in front of them.The chains rattled as Ragnar instinctively attempted to reach out his hand. His breaths were laboured, voice quivering as he let out a string of Norwegian that Athelstan could not understand. The anger on Ragnar’s face had turned into worry and guilt as his eyes darted between Athelstan and his children. 

Bjorn was the first to move. He scooted forward, putting his forehead to his father’s shoulder — the closest thing to hug they could manage with their hands tied. Ragnar stuttered for a moment and then fell into silence, kissing his son’s hair. Bjorn’s brothers hesitated a moment before they imitated their brother, leaning against their father’s battered body in semblance of a hug. Ragnar returned the affection as best as he could before he helplessly faced Athelstan. 

“Du er skadet”, he whispered hoarsely, worriedly eyeing the trail of blood that was beginning to dry on the side of Athelstan’s face. The teacher opened his mouth to ask a question, not understanding the words Ragnar had said to him but two shadows appeared behind Ragnar, effectively stifling every thought that was running around Athelstan’s head, replacing them with only fear and the newly discovered murderous intentions. 

The two men from before ripped Ragnar out of his sons’ hug, holding him tightly by the chains that were tying him, while two other people surged forward. Bjorn was the next to be pulled to his feet, letting out a low growl much like his father had done earlier as another shadow put a knife to his throat. 

Too lost in his worry, Athelstan gasped when a hand dug into his shoulder and pulled him up as well. For the second time that day, a gun was pointed at Athelstan’s head. He would have rolled his eyes if it had not been for the sheer terror in Ragnar’s striking blue eyes. 

“Aw, look!”, the person holding Bjorn cooed — Athelstan recognized the voice as the woman that had arrived shortly after them. “He  _ does _ have emotions!” The two men holding Ragnar laughed, one of them roughly turning his head around to look him in the eye. Ragnar bared his teeth at the man, making him flinch back and Athelstan was sure that Ivar was quietly giggling. 

“So, you can either tell us what we want to know or we can kill them all”, the woman said casually, pressing the knife against Bjorn’s throat. Athelstan held his breath, expecting to see blood flow from Bjorn’s throat but to his — and Ragnar’s — relief, the blade was not digging hard enough into the skin and the boy’s neck remained free of the red liquid. 

“Jeg vet ikke noe!”, Ragnar pleaded. Athelstan’s throat itched at the grit in his voice — a result of the relentless choking and, Athelstan guessed, the lack of use. 

“English, honey”, the woman said smugly. The gun aimed at Athelstan clicked quietly as the man released the safety catch and a shiver went through Athelstan. He glanced at Ragnar, who seemed to be frantically searching his brain for the right words — as if he had just forgotten every word he had ever learned in the English language. 

“He said that he doesn’t know!”, Bjorn suddenly yelled as if sensing his father’s struggles. 

While Athelstan and the Lothbroks were holding their breath, guns and knives threatening their lives, Rollo, Floki, Siggy and Helga were raiding the armory of their local police station. Thanks to Judith, they had received several clearing codes to open doors and gain access to restricted areas. Even though Judith was not physically there with them — having just given birth a week ago — she was a key character in making their plan work and she was more than willing to help them. Although she had admitted that she owed Ragnar her help, Judith gladly took the opportunity to spite her ex-husband and her father. 

“Should be enough”, Rollo announced once the trunk of Floki’s van was loaded with fire weapons and some explosives. The rest of the group seemed to agree and they quickly piled into the vehicle — Siggy and Helga occupying the front seats. 

Rollo and Floki had protested at the thought of their wives bringing themselves into danger but the two women had arguments that could not be refuted. Additionally to being Ragnar’s friends as well, Siggy was the best — if most reckless — driver out of the bunch and would safely get them in and out. Helga, on the other hand, was the only one in the group that had medical knowledge, exceeding the basics of first aid. And, most importantly, the two women were unstoppable forces, not afraid to barge in, guns blazing and all. So, as much as they did not like it, Rollo and Floki had conceded, knowing that they needed every help they could get.

Helga quickly entered the coordinates that the ring Athelstan was wearing had given them. “Bet I can be there in thirty-five minutes”, Siggy said, glancing at the estimated travel time of almost an hour. “We can’t waste a second”, she mumbled, swiftly pulling out of their parking spot and into the street. 

“Well then, let’s fucking go”, Rollo mumbled, leaning forward in his seat to gain a better look at the empty street in front of them. Siggy grinned as she stepped on the gas, probably reaching illegally high speeds as they drove towards the abandoned industrial complex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations
> 
> Du er skadet. - You are injured.
> 
> Jeg vet ikke noe. - I don't know anything.
> 
> *casually ignores the 41,9°C temperature difference in the past week*


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar and Athelstan might get to live their murderous intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i have a 5hour long mock-exam in advanced physics tomorrow? yea.  
> did i study? fuck no.

Ragnar’s heart was hammering in his chest. His eyes went back and forth between the knife that was pressed to Bjorn’s throat and the gun aimed at Athelstan. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. He could deal perfectly fine with being tortured but the moment his loved ones were threatened, he lost his mind.

It was hard to press down the urge to free himself and try to take the gun somehow. He did not know what it was but he had a new, strange energy in his body. This morning they had decided to torture him with electric current and it had stimulated a strange part of his brain. 

_ If Ragnar had the energy to be terrified, he would be. They had taken the metal chains off him, replacing them with leather cuffs, trapping him to a table. He was blindfolded and the uncertainty, not knowing what horrors he would have to face, was the worst part so far. Although Ragnar was glad that the leather cuffs were a little gentler with his skin, he was not sure if he liked the implication. He did not have much time to think about his preferences in bondage. _

_ For a split second he only felt a small tingle but then it was as if he had been struck by lightning, his entire body convulsing under the assault of the electric current flowing through him. Ragnar dug his teeth into his lip to keep himself from screaming, panting hard when the pain finally stopped. His muscles felt twitchy and he tentatively moved a finger to make sure he was still in control of his body.  _

_ Physically, Ragnar thought that this was the worst pain he had ever experienced. It was worse than the hot iron that had been pressed into his stomach to provisionally cauterize the stab wound because this pain was everywhere and he could not flinch away from it.  _

_ Another shock wave went through him, cutting off his train of thought as his muscles seized again. Ragnar groaned through gritted teeth, hoping that the current would soon stop but he felt his brain slowly drift into unconsciousness, the pain never fading.  _

A ghost shiver danced under Ragnar’s skin as he remembered the morning. It had taken a few hours for him to recollect his memories but he had been filled with this strange energy, the dark cloud for once lifted from his mind. When the shadows came to drag him downstairs he was more than ready to fight them despite being tangled up in the metal chains again. At certain times his muscles seemed to twitch or contract without his permission but it was manageable and had not yet impeded his ability to fight. He had just simply gone down because they had overpowered him . Ragnar made no false concessions to himself — he was only still fighting and breathing because they wanted him to. If they had not gotten the order to keep him alive, he would’ve been six feet under a long time ago. 

“He said that he doesn’t know!”, Bjorn yelled. The panic in his voice was so well controlled that even Ragnar had trouble recognising it. Ah, yes. That’s right, Ragnar thought as he forced himself back into the present. The shadow still thought that he was playing tricks on them, deliberating withholding information from them even through all the torture he had been subjected to. Granted, his absolute refusal to talk was suspicious but him insisting that he had no valuable information would have been cast aside as a lie. 

Ragnar wished from the bottom of his heart that he had the required information. Just to take this burden from his family, maybe then he could have avoided  _ all _ of this. His mind was running a million miles per second. Ragnar was struggling to comprehend the situation, the words spoken — anything, really. 

“Do we believe him, though?”, Marsh breathed down his neck and Ragnar fantasized about snapping his head back to break the man’s nose a second time. He did nothing of the sort, fearing it would cost the lives of Athelstan and Bjorn.

“We should just kill them”, Dan grumbled behind him. “They’re causing too much trouble.”

“Kill him and Aelle will kill you”, the woman that had inspected Ragnar’s face so closely answered. As far as he could remember, she had not been given a name. “We’ve been hunting him down for  _ fourteen fucking years _ ! I’m not giving up now! I want my part!”, she hissed, pressing the knife a little harder down on Bjorn’s throat. A small trickle of blood appeared on the boy’s neck and Ragnar swore to himself that he would annihilate this building and every single one of the shadows. 

“I’m asking one last time! Where is the  _ fucking _ loot, Lothbrok?!”, she yelled and Ragnar flinched at the venom in her voice. He blinked, trying to make the words make sense in his head. She was staring directly into his eyes, waiting for an answer. Ragnar opened his mouth to say the same words as before when all of a sudden, Athelstan raised his voice. Ragnar’s head snapped towards the teacher in surprise. Just like himself, Athelstan was seething with rage. 

“One of your mates put a knife to a child’s neck fourteen years ago, adding to a heap of trauma, and now you expect him to  _ not _ have repressed that memory?”, Athelstan asked, anger and sarcasm keeping balance in his tone. “Well,  _ someone _ failed Intro to Psychology in Uni.” Ragnar could feel the questioning gazes of his sons on him. Oh, that’s right. He had never told anyone beside Rollo and Floki. It was somewhat of a relief that Athelstan knew because that meant that they had made it safely to Rollo and an almost extinguished spark of hope ignited in Ragnar’s chest again. Perhaps, Athelstan and his sons being here was part of a plan. A plan to make this all stop, forever. Ragnar had a slow and very painful death all planned out in his head for Marsh. Dan would be next, not as painful but still slow. He might take mercy on the woman and give her a quick death depending on how she would continue to treat Bjorn. 

“Don’t!”, the woman said as the man holding the gun to Athelstan’s head was about to pull back the trigger. “Kill him instantly and he will never talk.” Ragnar wondered how it was possible to just absolutely gloss over the fact that he had insisted on not knowing anything through fourteen years of absolute chaos, pain and fear. He wanted to tell her but he trusted neither his voice nor his brain to form a coherent English sentence that would convey his thoughts.

He did not need to say anything as the main entrance doors slammed open and four more shadows stood in the frame.

“Release them right fucking now!”, Rollo roared through the hall.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All moral compasses are thrown out of the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi quickly a few things: - i've been wondering if the chapter length is alright? (i prefer them around 1,000-2,000. it's easier to read for me, but if you would like them longer or shorter lmk :))  
> \- i tried a few different character povs in this, i hope it'S not too confusing :)
> 
> this chaoter has absolutely no dialogue lol

A feral grin spread onto Ragnar’s face upon hearing his brother’s mighty voice. The spark of hope ignited a fire in his chest and he was ready to let it take over and let the rage burn everything down. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he broke out of his tormentors’ grasp, the two men too stunned to react. Ragnar felt awake and alert — he felt  _ alive _ .

Bjorn had reacted just as quickly as he had, sliding out from under the loosened hold and swiping the woman’s feet out from under her. Ragnar smiled at his son before turning to the man holding the gun to Athelstan’s head, both frozen in shock. 

Athelstan was terrified despite his murderous fantasies. He knew this was coming — they had all planned it. Still, seeing his four friends with deadly weapons in their hands paralysed him. Distantly he heard the rattling of Ragnar’s chains and in the next moment the gun was kicked away from his head, Ragnar’s boot narrowly avoiding his face. Athelstan felt the cold metal of the muzzle across his skin, glad that it only left a small scratch and not a bullethole. Ragnar grinned at Athelstan. There was a fire in his blue eyes that Athelstan had not seen before. Glazed over, almost glowing but different from the times Athelstan had seen the man untethered, drifting between reality and the prison of his own mind. No, this fire was deadly, ignited by a tiny speck of hope he must have kept deeply hidden within. In this moment — and for the first and only time — Athelstan was afraid of Ragnar. The man was ready to tear it all down, to kill every single one of these shadows slowly and painfully and then spit on their graves. He would rain hellfire upon them, he would burn the world — the industrial complex — for everything they had done to him. A fire burned within Ragnar and he would unleash the flames on the world, leaving only ashes in his wake. Athelstan gulped heavily as the first shot was fired. 

Rollo’s heart leapt with joy when he saw his brother alive. Ragnar was bruised and bloody. It seemed like the only thing holding him on his feet were the two men behind him but the moment their eyes connected briefly, Ragnar tore himself from the grasp and kicked away the gun that was aimed at Athelstan. Rollo cocked his gun as he ran towards his brother, Floki, Siggy and Helga behind him. A gunshot sounded through the hall and the man Ragnar had disarmed fell to the floor, his eyes glassy and unmoving as he stared up at the ceiling. 

All hell broke loose.

Ragnar needed to get rid of these chains. He did not even mind the gunshot that tore through the hall and the dead body was not registered in his head. He just needed to be free if he wanted to fight. Someone — It was Dan. The man had a very specific way to close his fingers around things — grabbed his arm, spinning him around as if trying to evoke a fear response from him but Ragnar was not fazed. He slammed his head against Dan’s — the world momentarily going blurry around the edges — before he quite impressively balanced on one foot and pushed his other boot into the man’s chest, knocking him to the floor. A key slid it out of Dan’s pocket and as fast as Ragnar could, he dived down and picked up with his teeth. Around him gunshots exploded and out of the corner of his eyes he could see Bjorn ushering the other boy’s into a corner, away from the trouble. His heart swelled with pride — apparently he had at least done a half decent job at raising kids. Shaking the thought, he looked around the hall for Floki. Helga and Siggy had gotten caught in hand-to-hand combat. He did not know who they were fighting but it did not matter as long as he saw the clad in black bodies fall to the floor. Ragnar had no sympathy for them. 

Floki was feeling strangely happy as he finally got to take revenge. Granted, it was not entirely his revenge to take but from what he had gathered, Ragnar was doing quite well in that regard too. Floki had never shot a gun before but they all had gotten a quick instruction from Judith and now that he had fired his first shot, he felt strangely secure with the weapon in his hand. The kickback had thrown him off balance for a moment but he had quickly recovered, now focusing on the mass of black that was swarming into the room. There were around fifty people that he was able to count on the spot but it was hard to be sure of their numbers as Rollo, Helga and Siggy were doing a wonderful job of sending them into the Great Beyond. For a moment he felt guilty as he watched another body fall to the floor when Ragnar called out his name in a muffled voice. All sympathy evaporated from his mind once he turned to face his best friend. Blood and bruises were covering him as he sprinted towards him with a painful looking posture. A key glittered between Ragnar’s teeth and only now did Floki register the chains that kept Ragnar from unleashing years of hatred. Floki dropped the gun to his side and met Ragnar halfway across the hall, neither of them minding the chaos around them and no one seemed to pay attention to them. A quick glance told him that Siggy and Helga were working together to keep Floki and Ragnar out of the trouble for a moment. 

Ragnar was breathing heavily as Floki carefully took the key from his mouth. His best friend’s hands were incredibly gentle as they roamed along Ragnar’s back to find where the chains connected. Momentarily, he got lost in the feeling — he had missed a gentle touch that would not be followed by pain. Ragnar sighed in relief as the chains finally dropped to the floor. His whole body tingled as the blood was able to flow normally again and he quickly massaged his wrists to bring a bit of feeling back to his hands. Floki reached to his belt, retrieving another Walther P99 — the same that he was using, and Ragnar was sure Rollo too. The gun was held to him by the muzzle —  _ safety first _ , Ragnar thought sarcastically — and he grabbed the handle, loading the weapon and releasing the safety catch. He grinned at Floki, who returned the gesture. Their way of saying  _ Good Luck _ . Ragnar turned around and ran into the fight, feeling Floki follow in his footsteps. He crashed into a body, both of them toppling over. Ragnar quickly rolled to his knees, pressing the gun to the body’s head and pulled the trigger. He did not waste too much moral thought on the action. None to be exact. Ragnar had three concerns now: get to Marsh and kill him as painfully as possible, make sure that his family (and yes, they were  _ all _ family) would get out safe and then steal the grenade he had seen attached to Helga’s belt so that he could tear the building to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like...regarding that 5hour exam...i either fucking aced it or i royally fucked up lmao. results pending


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the plan was not as well thought out as they had supposed.

Siggy had never thought herself capable of killing without remorse. She had always supposed that there would be moral quarrels in her mind if she would ever find herself in a situation like that. Now, Siggy only felt absolute and utter satisfaction as she snapped a man’s neck from behind and he collapsed like a house of cards. They deserved it. After everything they had done to her family — to Ragnar. Siggy whirled around, trying to spot the man. He had just kicked another masked figure to the floor, diving down to retrieve a key that had slipped out of his victim's pocket. Ragnar looked around the hall as if he was searching for something and Siggy followed his gaze. Her eyes landed on Floki and then Ragnar was sprinting across the hall, a few shadows trying to follow him but he did not seem to notice them.

"Helga!", she called out and a blonde head whipped around to face her. Helga had blood splattered across her face but she had the same satisfied expression that adorned Siggy's face. Siggy inclined her head toward Ragnar and Floki and Helga nodded at her — a silent plan had formed. Keep the two men separated from the fight for at least a few seconds. 

The two women charged at the shadows following Ragnar, crashing the handles of their P99s against their temples, kicking their legs out under them or coming up behind them to break a neck. It did not matter how, they just needed to go down.

Siggy distantly registered the rattling of Ragnar's metal chains and the sound of them hitting the floor. She risked a look back toward the two men, grinning at each other before they both took off again. A hand caught in her hair and she groaned in pain, stabbing her elbows back into a soft stomach. There was a tiny shocked gasp and Siggy whirled around, raising her gun at chest level before she pulled the trigger. The body fell to the floor and Siggy hopped over it, searching for her next victim. 

Helga's heart was hammering with the rush of the fight. Blood was smeared on her face — she could not tell if it was her own or someone else's — and her hair stuck to the small patches of red. She resisted the urge to turn her attention away from the mass of black to search for Floki. Siggy and she brought down a considerable amount of masked shadows, trying to buy Floki and Ragnar a few moments in peace, and Helga felt no remorse. They deserved for everything they did to her family. Her hands itched to pull the pins out of the two grenades attached to her belt. Of course, she would get everyone out safely first but she wanted to see this building go up in flames. A sudden fear flared up and she wrestled down a man trying to grab at her. Without hesitation she put a bullet in his heart, her eyes frantically searching for the children. She allowed herself a sigh of relief when she found them huddled into a corner, Bjorn standing over them in a protective manner.  _ Like a bear _ , she thought with a smile. Ragnar and Lagertha had chosen a wonderful name and then Ragnar had done a beautiful job of raising the boy (even if he often doubted himself, as she was coming to know).

A hand curled around her upper arm and pulled her around a corner, the sounds of the fighting became slightly muffled. Helga was ready to throw a punch when she was suddenly met with Ragnar's burning blue eyes. His face was crusted with blood, bruises and dirt but his eyes were clear and bright. Helga relaxed her posture and let herself fall against the wall behind her, using the small break to try and catch her breath. Ragnar had let go of her but she could still feel the aftermath of the touch. His grip was surprisingly strong for someone that had been tortured for four days and sometimes, Ragnar was not necessarily aware of his own strength.

"Helga", he rasped. His breath came out in short intervals and Helga swore that she saw his hands shake. (Exhaustion or anxiety?) "I need you to do something for me", he pleaded and she could only nod. It was probably a mistake on her part. Ragnar's plans posed a very slim chance that he himself would get out unharmed but the relieved smile on his face made her doubts fade away.

"I need you to get everyone out and away", he whispered frantically. 

"Why?", Helga asked. "I want to know what you're doing before I agree to this", she challenged. Ragnar turned his head away from her for a second before he sighed and looked at her again. 

"I want to blow this building up", he mumbled, pointing at the grenades on Helga's belt. "I need to know that everyone gets out safe. The building is so old, it will collapse. It will bury everything and then it will finally be over", he explained. Tears pooled in his eyes. Helga was overcome with a sudden urge to hug the man but she resisted the urge. For a second, she could not speak. She needed a moment to process what he had said, think it over. 

Eventually, she nodded. None of them had a better plan. Although she hated that Ragnar was deliberately throwing himself into even more trouble, this would be the fastest way to end it. Getting out again was harder than everyone had originally anticipated. 

"Fine", she said. She took the two grenades off her belt and handed them over to Ragnar. "But you need to promise me that we'll see you again", she begged him. Ragnar seemed to hesitate before he nodded. "I promise", he whispered. Helga smiled as he closed his hands around the explosives. She put a reassuring hand on his arm, feeling his muscles contract as he suppressed a flinch. The desire for revenge flared up in her but this was Ragnat's revenge. He deserved to end it. 

Bjorn looked around frantically, the sounds of the fight were deafening. His father had disappeared out of plain sight and Bjorn feared that a group of shadows had split off, taking him hostage again. Or maybe they had finally killed him. With anger fuelling his muscles, he picked up a stone off the floor, throwing it at a man trying to advance on him and his brother. The stone hit the man's head and he fell to his knees, putting a hand to his skull. 

A loud voice roared through the hall, all fight coming to a halt. Ragnar stood in front of the door leading to the staircase, his hands clasped behind his back as if he was still tied.

"Let's play a game of catch!", he grinned. Suddenly, Helga was next to Bjorn, ushering him and his siblings to the exit. He complied but his head kept turning to keep his eyes on his father. Every shadow was watching him, not noticing that the others were escaping. 

"If you can catch me, I'll tell you where the loot is", Ragnar smiled. There was a moment of utter silence and stillness. And then, the black mass advanced as one and Ragnar spun around sprinting up the stairs. That's all Bjorn could see before the metal door to the staircase slammed shut and the area was swarmed by black.

  
  



	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar's last plan unfolds

An almost scary sense of calm dawned on Ragnar as he sprinted up the staircase, the sound of footsteps hammering in his ears. He was gripping the grenades tightly in his hands, his entire body straining to just finally collapse and rest.  _ Not yet _ , he thought angrily, willing his body to go even further beyond his limits. Just this once. This one last fight.

The second floor. He needed to get to the second floor. After they had electrocuted him and he had found the strength to try and escape, he had run up there. A wall was missing there. Ragnar's plan had been to let himself fall out of the window. The thirty feet drop into water would have been the least of his problems. But he had not been fast enough and just as he was about to leap from the ledge, someone had pulled him back by the collar of his shirt and they had put him in chains again and dragged him downstairs.

Just as Ragnar thought his legs would give out and his lungs would collapse, he threw himself against the heavy metal door and stumbled into another empty production hall. A cold wind cut into his skin like a thousand tiny needles as he ran towards the missing wall. 

"It's over!", a shadow yelled. Ragnar took a moment His eyes focused on the canal deep below him, searching for the distant figures of his family. A van stopped on the other side of the canal and Ragnar smiled.

Slowly, he turned around, hiding his hands behind his back and the smile secure on his lips as he faced his tormentors for the last time. They opposed each other silently, not daring to move as if they feared that Ragnar would try to jump off the ledge again. Once more he had the upper hand, simply because they could not afford to lose him.

"It appears that you have caught me", Ragnar said, laying his head to the side like a playful puppy. "I suppose I should tell you the coordinates", he continued, "but alas, I do not know them." He shrugged apologetically. "Sorry."

A shadow — Marsh, Ragnar judged by the man's stature — advanced on him. Ragnar took a step back, more instinctively than calculated, and Marsh stopped dead in his tracks. If they continued this dance, Ragnar would fall off the ledge and everything would be lost forever. Their absolute refusal to believe that Ragnar was clueless was his lifeline. It was the string that made everything work. Too much money made people stupid and illogical, and for the first time in his life Ragnar was glad for it.

"Back off! All of you!", Aelle suddenly boomed through the hall. Ragnar almost flinched but the howl of the wind was louder in his ears than Aelle's voice. Somehow, he felt protected with wind and wave in his back as if Njord had come to engulf him in his loving arms.

Aelle pushed his way through the mass of black that had circled around Ragnar. They all stepped back to let the man through, his face contorted with rage. Ragnar took another step back, dangerously close to the ledge now. Aelle stopped next to Marsh who had not obeyed the order of backing off and was staring down Ragnar out of the tiny the slits that were cut into the ski-masks. Ragnar almost laughed as Aelle ripped off Marsh's mask and threw it past Ragnar and off the building. He grinned at the familiar dent in the man's nose and its slight crookedness from multiple fractures that Ragnar had caused.

Aelle eyed him suspiciously but Ragnar was swiftly hiding the grenades behind his back. (It was a miracle to him how they had not seen them yet.)

"Tell us what you know!", Aelle demanded harshly. His face was so red that Ragnar was surprised that it had not burst yet. Marsh was trembling, having trouble to control his urge to strangle Ragnar to death, he guessed. 

"I only know one thing", Ragnar whispered, fixating his gaze on Marsh. The man tensed, the night that Ragnar was pushed too far replaying in their heads. "I swore to you that I will tear you down. I'll annihilate each and every single one of you. I will destroy you with the fury and strength of all the gods combined and I will have my revenge!", Ragnar screamed over the wind, a grit entering his voice when his volume had reached impossibly high levels. He was sure he had never screamed like this. All eyes were on him, his chest was moving rapidly in sync with the breaths he was taking but other than him, no else dared to breathe. The pure terror on Marsh's face brought a sense of victory to him.

"I will bring hellfire upon you", he whispered as he slowly exposed the grenades in his hands. Sharp gasps carried to his ears over the wind and a sick grin formed on his face. The shadows were frozen in shock as Ragnar balanced the two explosives in one hand and pulled both pins with the other. 

Ten kilograms of force to activate and five seconds to get out. 

As soon as he heard the click, he threw the grenades at two shadows, who miraculously caught them in their confusion. Ragnar stepped back further, his heels hanging off the ledge.

_ Three _ .

One leg dangled in the air.

_ Two. _

Ragnar took a deep breath, relaxing body and mind as he felt the numbness of unconsciousness pick at the edges of his mind. With nothing to hold him any more, he fell back into the arms of Njord, his eyes slowly falling shut as he crashed to the ground.

_ One. _

The sounds of the explosion rang distantly in his ears. Dust and ashes rained down around him as he fell. Small metal fragments pierced into his battered skin. Stone crashing against stone was music to his ears as the industrial complex finally collapsed, burying everything underneath. Ragnar smiled. He had won. It was over. He had gotten his revenge and no one would ever make him fear for his life again. A sense of calm — different from the calm of the fight — overcame him as he hit the water and Njord welcomed him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all are having wonderful weekends :)


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember that on scene in like...i think season 1??? were ragnar falls off that cliff and athelstan saves him from drowning? that's it. that's the chapter.

Icarus flying too close to the sun and then crashing into the ocean. Lucifer being cast out of heaven and falling into the pits of hell. That's all Athelstan could see as he watched the industrial complex crumble to the floor and the ground shook beneath his feet with the force of the explosion. It had not been a burst of fire and flame like Athelstan had always imagined. No, for a heartbeat, there had been a blinding flash and then an earth-shattering sound that was still sounding in Athelstan’s ears. Little metal pieces and tiny pebbles assaulted his skin, clouding his vision with blood and through the after-effects of the visual on-slaught of the explosion, he saw the image of Lucifer and Icarus falling, combined into one person. 

It was neither Lucifer nor Icarus falling, Athelstan knew. It was only Ragnar’s body, tipping off the building a mere second before the explosions erupted, causing the entire complex to cave in on itself. As he watched the other man fall, he wondered if it had been a calculated move or if Ragnar’s body and mind had finally succumbed to the exhaustion that had been consuming him for what felt like eternity. 

Athelstan could only stare in horror as Ragnar crashed into the canal, the water immediately engulfing him and dragging him into the depths. Through the ringing in his ears, he could distantly hear the screams of his companions who were forced to watch the same scene. 

The young teacher did not waste a second as he ran towards the edge of the canal. Without so much as a thought, Athelstan jumped into the water. The cold hit him, knocking the breath out of his lungs momentarily as the remnants of the explosion crashed into the water around him. Frantically, he searched for Ragnar's sinking body.

A gleam of gold caught his attention. The cross he had given Ragnar reflected the little light the water let through, and Athelstan was about to dive after the man but his lungs were burning and he had to break through the water's surface to gasp for air. He took deep and fast breaths, trying to fill his lungs as quickly as possible. His ears were still ringing but he could still hear the yelling of his friends. Athelstan paid them no mind as he dived into the water again, swimming downwards to search for the small glitter of gold. 

His heart leapt with joy when he finally saw it and with determination inciting new strength in his bones, he swam after the glitter. The necklace was caught under Ragnar's chin and in his hair as he was floating down into the depths. His face beneath the chain of the necklace was calm and peaceful but the water had washed away some of the dried blood, revealing the angry cuts and the violent bruises underneath. 

Athelstan maneuvered his own body under Ragnar and securely wrapped his arms around the man's chest. New rushes of adrenaline circled through his veins and suddenly his legs found the strength to propel himself and Ragnar towards the surface. Dark spots danced in his vision as his lungs burnt and screamed for oxygen and just as Athelstan was sure they would both drown, they finally broke through the surface.

Hands grabbed at him and Ragnar, trying to pull them up and away from each other. Athelstan instinctively tightened his grip on the man in his embrace, scared to lose him. Ragnar's chest was so impossibly still despite Athelstan's shaking hands. His body was too cold, no strong heart was beating beneath Athelstan's hands.

The young teacher let out a desperate scream as Rollo finally managed to pull him away from Ragnar. Siggy and Helga carefully laid Ragnar out on the floor and Floki draped a blanket around Athelstan's shaking shoulders whilst Rollo tried to shield Ragnar's sons from the scene. Ragnar looked so incredibly peaceful, his lips almost curled up into a smile as if he had been ready to welcome death with open arms.

"He's not breathing!" Athelstan cried desperately, tears clouding his vision. He wanted to scramble up and kneel next to Ragnar's body, tell him that everything would be okay, but Floki gently held him down. Helga bent over Ragnar, putting her ear to his chest to listen for a heartbeat, one hand at his mouth and nose to feel for a breath. With a grim face she pulled away and pushed up her sleeves.

Athelstan waited for the sickening crack of breaking ribs as Helga started to administer CPR but it never came. Naturally, Athelstan thought, a sudden wave of anger cursing through him. His ribs were already broken. 

Aching moments of horrible silence passed when suddenly, Ragnar started to cough violently and Athelstan could hear water splattering on the concrete floor. Helga took a small step back and immediately, Athelstan and the others — save for Ragnar’s sons who had been securely placed into the van — rushed to Ragnar’s side once his coughing fit had died down. His blue eyes flitted around unfocused, trying to find one face to concentrate on. Before Athelstan could even think, he had reached out to hold Ragnar’s freezing hand. Blue eyes settled on him as they slowly came into focus. 

“Athelstan”, Ragnar pressed out. His voice was barely above a whisper and painfully rough from all the water he had swallowed. Athelstan smiled, a tear running down his face. 

“You almost died on us, you idiot”, he whispered, touching his forehead to Ragnar’s hand, just as he had done when Athelstan had given him the necklace.

“Death is not my enemy”, Ragnar mumbled as his other hand weakly found its way into Athelstan’s damp hair. His strength was enough to run his fingers through the thick locks once before he had to drop his hand back to the floor. Athelstan swore he could feel the smiles of the people around him at the display of affection but a darkness still lingered in Athelstan’s mind. Ragnar had _wanted_ death. Slowly, the puzzle pieces fell into place in Athelstan’s head and in a split second, he saw every version of Ragnar he had picked up on. The terrified child, cowering in front of a violent father. The same child being forced to kill someone, left terrified and alone. Again, a child almost beat to death for kissing his best friend. A teenager, almost a child himself still, with two children and a girlfriend, fighting for their lives but in vain. And then, a young adult, five children by his side. A recent loss like a dark cloud over him, constant fear in his heart and only the desire for revenge, no place for more quarrels or regret. A man who had never known good things. 

“Perhaps it is not”, Athelstan responded, his voice quivering with overwhelming emotions that he could not place. “But death has a time and place. He has given all of us limited time but your time is not over yet, Ragnar”, he desperately explained. 

Suddenly, Floki appeared by his side, his finger ghosting along Ragnar’s face but not quite touching as if he was scared to feel the bruises and cuts on his skin. “Hel wants you on this earth a little longer, so that Odin can prepare the Halls of Valhalla for you, my friend”, Floki said grinning. An exhausted but content smile spread across Ragnar’s face. 

“Good to have you back, brother”, Rollo said quietly and Ragnar huffed out a painful laugh, grinning at his brother before he focused his gaze on Helga.

“I promised to see you again.”


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan is overwhelmed by his emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooh boy, we thought things would calm down but my brain had weird electrical currents at night and was like....how about we add ten more plot points? and i was like...yea, lets do it!

Athelstan sat in the church pews, his hands clasped in prayer but the words always escaped his mind. Flocks of ravens chased the holy words away and blood clouded the image of his God. 

He had not been to church since his parents had passed away a few years ago but the last few days had left him in need of a safe haven. For the first three days after their return, he had not dared to enter. Athelstan had stood outside, staring at the gates for almost an hour before he walked away again. Today, though, a crow had dove past him, snatching up the cadaver of a rat that had been decaying next to the church doors. It was a sign, Athelstan was sure, though he did not know what for and so, in a guessing game, he had entered the church.

The smell of incense had engulfed like a warm hug and Athelstan had felt at peace, seeing the light shining through the colourful windows. Once he had sat down in the empty church to say a prayer, his mind had been attacked by the happenings of the past few days. 

After Helga had managed to restart Ragnar’s heart, they had driven to the nearest hospital. Rollo bunched his brother up in a blanket and carried him to the ER like a small child, and Athelstan had to admit that Ragnar looked incredibly small and vulnerable. Jaws dropped at the sight of them and doctors and nurses swarmed around them, when the ragtag band stood by the registration. Athelstan and Ragnar were dripping wet, a small puddle forming by their feet. The water was tinted red from the countless wounds he and Ragnar had suffered. There was a profusely bleeding wound on his shoulder that Athelstan had not noticed before when he had saved Ragnar from drowning but now he was aware of the pain. 

They did not wait for a long time. Each of them got a thorough check-up, glad that they did not have to explain the reasons behind their battered states. The injuries for the most part were minor. Helga had fractured a wrist while saving Ragnar’s life and Siggy had suffered a broken rib. Rollo had a deep scratch on his stomach that required stitches. Bjorn’s cut throat only needed to be closed with band-aid strips and Ivar, ironically, had a fractured ankle while their three brothers luckily were unharmed. Athelstan’s head wounds were, thank the heavens, nothing major. They just bled a lot, like head wounds are bound to do. His shoulder was a different story. Through his rigorous movements in the water, he had unintentionally tore out the metal piece that had caused the wound. It destroyed some nerves in his shoulder and he was told that sometimes his entire arm would become numb or tingle unpleasantly. It was a small price to pay, Athelstan thought. 

Ragnar was a whole different story. He had fallen unconscious during the drive and, safe in Rollo’s arms, he had not woken up yet. Once Rollo set him down on doctor’s orders, the man stirred, his eyes flying open in a blind panic. The unfamiliarity of his surroundings shook him to the core and despite the visible pain he was in, he flinched away from the doctor, pressing himself into the nearest corner as he curled up like a terrified child. Athelstan’s heart broke at the sight and together with Rollo and Floki, they gently talked to him, explaining the situation to coax him out of the corner. 

Still, it was decided to sedate Ragnar. It was almost an impossible task to examine the man when every touch threatened to send him into a new wave of panic. 

Tears pricked at the corner of Athelstan’s eyes as he sat in the church, reminiscing what had happened. The sedatives had made Ragnar droopy and he had slept for an entire day in the ICU. (After he had woken up and they had run a number of tests on him, he was gladly moved to the regular units.) None of them had wanted to leave his side but Athelstan had been forced to go home to take care of his pets. 

Athelstan was glad that he was still on sick leave, it meant that he had time to stay by Ragnar’s side, just like the rest of his family. Although Ragnar always forced them to go home, take a shower, eat well and get a goodnight’s sleep. 

When Ragnar and Athelstan were alone, they exchanged very few words. Athelstan wanted to bombard the man with questions but he only held Ragnar’s hand and stayed silent. Sometimes, Ragnar stared at the walls, his expression just as blank as the white slate in front of him and Athelstan squeezed his hand gently to bring him back. Ragnar began to play with Athelstan’s fingers and asked for stories about Athelstan’s pets. A topic so light and happy that Athelstan immediately obliged. 

Athelstan had to slap his hand over his mouth as a laugh started to build in his stomach, remembering the happy expression on Ragnar’s face as he mindlessly rambled on about Atreyu and Elsa. Athelstan really wanted to laugh but he was in church and he would behave. 

Giving up on his attempts to pray, he stood up, wanting to explore the church anew. Perhaps, things had changed in the years he had not been here. The building was just as Athelstan remembered it. Gigantic halls, remains of the english gothic era, bowed over Athelstan’s head. The stained glass windows broke the light into its spectral colours, creating intricate patterns on the sandstone floor. Now that he had grown up, the stone altar did not seem as threatening any more, although the same white and gold altar cloth still hung above it, held down by the same golden candle holder. Athelstan still shuddered at the enormous figurine of Jesus on the cross that stood behind the altar but today, his focus was more on the painting that hung in the aisle left of the nave. 

The image of Michael casting Lucifer out of heaven was a painful reminder of Ragnar falling off the ledge of the building. A wave of emotion washed over Athelstan, so intense that he was forced to drop to his knees. His pale blue eyes stayed fixed on the painting.  _ Lucifer and his rebel angels _ , Athelstan thought,  _ just like Ragnar and the rest of us _ . 

As the guilt of what he had done started to overwhelm him, the prayer fell from his lips. Not a whisper, not a normal spoken word. His voice was loud as he begged for forgiveness, tears accompanying his pleas. For the first time, Athelstan was not sure who he was praying to. His Christian God? Lucifer? Or one of Ragnar’s gods?

A hand laid heavy on his shoulder in an attempt to calm the frantic breaths he was taking. Blinking rapidly, Athelstan turned towards the man kneeling next to him.

“Father Ecbert?”, he whispered hoarsely. The old man smiled and nodded at him, putting an arm around his shoulder to pull him closer into a fatherly embrace. 


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan reconnects with his youth pastor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this blasphemy? idk, I'm not christian but i do apologize

"What's wrong, son?", Ecbert asked once Athelstan had calmed down a bit. The young teacher sniffled and wiped his eyes.

"A lot has happened this week", he whispered, finally tearing his eyes away from the painting. Ecbert's attention had mainly been focused on Athelstan, only half-registering the artwork he was staring at. 

"Ah, Saint Michael expelling Lucifer and his rebel angels", the pastor said, a hint of humour in his voice that confused Athelstan. “Has someone wronged you?”, Ecbert asked gently and Athelstan quickly shook his head. 

“Not me, per se, but…”, Athelstan trailed off. “I can’t say this in a church.” He was tempted to look at the figurine of Jesus but his head refused to move as if his mind was scared to see the son of God distorted and covered in blood.

“Take a walk with me in the graveyard and tell me everything”, Ecbert suggested. “I have not seen you in a very long time and the dead don’t listen.”

Athelstan was glad for the fresh air outside. The high walls of the church had seemed to come closer and closer as if attempting to suffocate him. Warm sunlight was shining down on them and Athelstan savoured the last days of the mild autumn weather.

“You’ve been gone for three years, Athelstan”, Ecbert said quietly. “How have you been?” Athelstan did not answer right away. His eyes trailed after a murder of crows flying off into the setting sun.

“I’ve been well. For the most part”, he said softly, not daring to speak aloud. The last thing he wanted was to disturb the people who had found their final resting place here, “I love my teaching job, Judith has a child and….I’m catching feelings”, he finally admitted, more to himself than to Ecbert. It was wonderful to talk to the pastor again. His heart was getting lighter with every step and Athelstan cursed himself for not having come here earlier. Ecbert had been someone to confide in for his entire life but ever since Athelstan’s parents had been ripped away from him in an unexpected accident, he had been too afraid to enter the church. Too many memories of his childhood were tied to this place and he had not been sure if he wanted to revive them, fearing that it would only deepen the grief his loss had caused. Now, thought, now the weight of everything that had gone down in the past two weeks — Athelstan was sure it had been two weeks but right now that was the least of his concerns — had just gotten too much. Coming back to church was familiar, like a warm hug for Athelstan’s mind. 

Athelstan cleared his throat awkwardly. “That is kind of the problem I’m having. Not the feelings, no”, he said quickly. “It’s just that I have done things to be with him that are not very Christian”, Athelstan sighed hesitantly, risking a look at Ecbert. The pastor smiled softly into the sunset.

“Do you want to talk about it, son?”, he asked, carefully testing the waters and Athelstan was glad for it. Yes, he did want to talk about it but perhaps not in all its gory details. He nodded firmly. 

“Well, then tell me about this mysterious man first”, Ecbert chuckled, as they walked along the fence. When Athelstan had told his parents — crying — that he thought he was gay, they had gone to Ecbert immediately. A warm feeling swelled in his heart as he remembered Ecbert’s supporting and reassuring words. 

“He’s the father of five kids at my school”, Athelstan started. “Been a turbulent time for him and his kids and I saw him again at a boxing gym when I brought Lizzy there. And then...he kinda saved my life?”, Athelstan asked more than stated. Ecbert looked at him with a soft smile, motioning him to continue.

And so Athelstan continued to tell the story. Ragnar teaching him the basics of kickboxing and wrestling, how Ragnar had sprinted through the rain to calm him down, their shared moment of intimacy, their fight and Athelstan’s attempt at a reconciliation. He conveniently left out Ragnar and him being kidnapped and then blowing up a building. “We’re getting along well”, he concluded with a shrug, not quite sure how to describe their relationship. 

The pastor chuckled. “That sounds like a wonderful start. Does he have a name?”

Athelstan hummed softly, nodding once again. “Yeah, his name is Ragnar”, he quietly provided. A squirrel raced past them, up into the crown of an old oak. Ecbert did not reply for a while and when Athelstan turned to face him, the pastor had a strangely thoughtful expression. 

“The name sounds familiar”, he wondered, running a hand through his beard in thought. “Ah yes!”, Ecbert suddenly exclaimed. “There was this school’s religion and mythology afternoon course. They often came here. I remember a Ragnar in there — a very unique name compared to his classmates”, the pastor told Athelstan. 

They had stopped in front of a headstone from the late sixteenth century. Maybe one of those who built this church, Athelstan wondered. The headstone was in desperate need of cleaning, name and dates almost invisible. 

“What was he like?”, Athelstan asked curiously, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Absentmindedly he started to dig the tip of his shoes into the grass beneath his feet before he remembered where he was. He stopped immediately.

“A wonderfully curious child! Always asked so many questions and was so interested in everything”, Ecbert remembered fondly. The more Athelstan learned about the child that Ragnar had been, he wished they would have met back then. Perhaps they could have become friends and none of this would have happened. “One day he just stopped showing up and I never saw him again but he did stay in my memory”, the pastor said. Athelstan smiled softly, despite the fondness of the memory, the knowledge of why Ragnar most likely had stopped showing up weighed heavy on his mind. 

“He got into some trouble”, Athelstan explained and Ecbert turned to face him, urging him to further illustrate what he was saying. The young teacher sighed. “I can’t really talk about it. It’s not my place. But it’s been haunting him all his life and it might finally be over”, he tried to explain without giving too much away. Athelstan and the others had not heard anything in the news and no one had showed up at their doorsteps to interrogate them. He wondered when the first people would start asking questions.

“We did some very….immoral things”, he whispered, taking a deep breath. “Sins. We sinned.”

Ecbert was awfully quiet for a while, mulling the words over before he spoke. “You did it out of love, didn’t you? Love for your own life, for him, his children?”, he asked and Athelstan nodded mutely, trying to shut down the screaming voices in his head. “Love repents all sins, Athelstan.”

Athelstan opened his mouth to reply when suddenly his phone rang in his pocket. He had forgotten to put it on silent before he had entered the church. He shot Ecbert an apologetic look, who gestured for him to take the call, and Athelstan picked up.

“Athelstan, hey, sorry to disturb. I have the boys at my house but could you please go and check on Ragnar?”, Rollo asked him through the phone. “He discharged himself from the hospital.”

Athelstan ran a hand down his face in exasperation. Ragnar had nearly  _ died _ a few days ago and now he was walking around town by himself? “He did what now?”, Athelstan asked slightly irritated. 


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuddling happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow!!!! 2k hits???? thank y'all so much! that's so wild!  
> this chapter now officially puts us beyond the word count of brave new world :D
> 
> also...someone tell me how i use the type 3 conditional in a sentence bc i rewrote that single sentence like five times bc i was not sure lmao...  
> anyway! enjoy!

“Ragnar was stupid enough to leave the hospital”, Rollo repeated with a heavy sigh. “He passed the psychological evaluation and he does not have any lethal injuries. They have no reason to keep him against his will….”, he trailed off.

“I’ll go check on him”, Athelstan confirmed, shooting Ecbert an apologetic look. The pastor made a dismissive hand gesture as if to tell him  _ Go, check on your friend _ and Athelstan hung up the phone and sprinted out of the graveyard.

The way from church to Ragnar’s house was surprisingly short but it left enough time for Athelstan to curse the man thrice over for being so damn stubborn and refusing to accept help. His frustration, however, was replaced by worry as the front door came into view. 

There was a crack in the milky glass and the lock of the door was still busted from where the shadows had kicked it in. Barrier tape hung in loose strande off the door frame, the words  _ Police Do Not Cross  _ only barely readable. Athelstan swallowed hard, preparing himself for the mess that would await him on the inside.

Determined, he pushed open the door, ready to face whatever he would find but there was nothing. No bodies, no blood, no smell of decay. Instead, he was welcomed by a mixture of earthy and wooden smells and the clean rustic interior of the house that he had loved the first time he had been here. He still did. It was so jarringly different from his own house and Athelstan felt cozy and at home when he was here. 

“Ragnar?”, he called softly, stepping into the house. When Ragnar did not answer him, anxiety started to bubble in his stomach. He walked through the hallway into the living space but still, nothing was out of place and Ragnar was nowhere. Only a few incense sticks were burning — the source of the earthy smell, Athelstan supposed. 

He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, contemplating whether he should call Rollo or leave and search for Ragnar on his own. Just as he was about to pull out his phone, thinking about the gentlest ways to tell Rollo that his brother was missing once again, Athelstan suddenly remembered that there was a second floor to this house. 

With quick steps Athelstan approached the staircase.

“Ragnar?”, he called once again, softer this time, before he took two steps at once as he climbed the stairs. Once again, there was no answer but atop the staircase, Athelstan saw a hunched over figure sitting on the dark wood planks. He was bundled up in a grey hoodie and his hair was finally clean of dust and blood, the fresh braid resting gently on his back.

“Ragnar?”, Athelstan asked softly as he slowly climbed the last step. Ragnar was staring at the closed door in front of him. Athelstan followed his gaze but he could not find anything strange about the grain of the wood. He sat down next to Ragnar and so they sat in silence for a while. 

“Athelstan”, Ragnar mumbled out after what felt like eternity to the teacher. The man did not turn to look at him.

“Why did you leave?”, Athelstan dared to ask. “Rollo was extremely worried and I don’t think that Floki is happy about your decision.” He tried his best to keep any accusations out of his voice. It was Ragnar’s personal choice but it did bother Athelstan that he apparently did not want to accept the help he had been given.

“If I had to stare at these walls for a moment longer I would have burned that building to the ground”, Ragnar answered with a shrug, still staring at the door. 

“And this door is so much more interesting?”, Athelstan inquired jokingly. Ragnar let out an airy laugh. “Fair enough”, he returned and then they were silent again. 

“This is weird”, Ragnar started, causing Athelstan to tear his eyes off the wall and look at him, “but can you...can you give me a hug?”, he asked. For a moment he made a motion as if to look at Athelstan but instead, he let his head hang and fiddled with the hems of his sleeves. 

Athelstan was sure that the way his breath hitched and his heart skipped a beat was definitely not normal. He was happy and excited — this was such a huge sign of trust that he had not expected — but at the same time, the request was tied to a lot of risks and anxieties, What if Athelstan accidentally did something wrong? What if he reopened the wound on his shoulder? What if, what if, what if? 

Athelstan pushed all those unasked questions aside — they both really needed that hug. His mouth worked before his brain and he stuttered, trying to find the words.

“Uh, yea. Sure! Of course”, he rambled. 

“Thank you”, Ragnar whispered. He looked at Athelstan with just the hint of a smile on his face but his eyes were shimmering with such a strange expression that Athelstan could not place.

Athelstan put his arm around Ragnar’s back, gently holding on to his waist and pulled him closer. His other arm reached up to carefully touch the man’s cheek, encouraging him to put his head against Athelstan’s uninjured shoulder. 

Ragnar let out a content sigh, although every muscle seemed to be tense to no end. Eventually, Athelstan dropped the hand from Ragnar’s face and put his arm over his stomach, so that he was fully holding Ragnar in his arms. He slowly relaxed, copying Athelstan in the way he slowly started to wrap his arms around Athelstan’s waist, one arm resting on Athelstan’s thighs. Smiling, the teacher laid his head on top of Ragnar’s as they continued to hold each other in silence. 

Athelstan tried to recall past times of a touch so tender and intimate without being sexual but he was unable to find anything in his brain. This was an entirely new experience for him — and for Ragnar, he thought. 

Taking deep and calm breaths, the scent of musk and sandalwood tickled his nose — the scent of the house, his mind supplied. There was an underlying nuance of stale cigarette smoke that bothered Athelstan slightly — Ragnar’s scent, not the house, he knew. 

Unconsciously, he pulled Ragnar a little close, bathing in the cozy feeling that this earthy scent brought. He closed his eyes, feeling Ragnar sink a little heavier against him as he himself was pulled closer into the embrace. 

“I’m sorry”, Ragnar whispered hoarsely. Only now Athelstan felt the tiny unevenness in the breath he took and he had to blink away his own tears.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan stays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more relationship development??? after 50 chapters?  
> i surely did not lie when i said this is more of a sizzle

“What are you sorry for?”, Athelstan asked, gently pushing Ragnar away so that he could look at him but neither of them let go. Ragnar sighed heavily and blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill.

“For everything”, he mumbled. Ragnar’s eyes glanced over the angry, scabbed over scratch on Athelstan’s forehead and the small cut on his temple. “You...you did not deserve this. I should have tried harder to keep myself away from you. You got hurt, permanently”, Ragnar said. There was an anger in his voice that Athelstan had not heard before. For a moment, he feared that it was directed at him. 

“I should have protected you”, Ragnar whispered and quickly Athelstan realised that his anger was directed at himself and not Athelstan. 

Athelstan was not sure what possessed him but his hands left Ragnar’s waist and came up to gently caress his face. A shiver went through Ragnar when the teacher touched the bruised skin but he did not flinch away from Athelstan.

“No, Ragnar, that is not your fault. At all”, Athelstan stated. His tone left no room for discussion. “I could’ve just let you walk away from me after you slammed my door but I didn’t. I made the choice to come look for you, I made the choice to ignore your warnings.” He paused, taking a deep breath. Ragnar was staring at him with wide eyes as if he was struggling to comprehend Athelstan’s words. 

“Do you know why I did that?”, Athelstan asked and Ragnar shook his head as best as he could with the teacher’s hands gently holding him in place. Athelstan smiled. “Because I wanted to be in your life, okay? And I still do. If you want me to”, he explained softly. The way Ragnar stared at him tugged at his heartstrings as if he could not believe that someone truly wanted to stay with him and the mess he had been shoved into.

“Please”, Ragnar whispered to him. “Please stay.”

Athelstan’s breath was knocked out of his lungs when Ragnar suddenly threw his arms around Athelstan’s chest — careful not to touch his shoulder — and pulled him close. Ragnar still had a surprising amount of strength in his body, despite the struggles of the past week and if he had not been already sitting, Athelstan would have fallen over. With a small, hesitant smile on his face, he wrapped an arm around Ragnar’s back and put a hand on the base of his skull just like he did when they had sat on Athelstan’s floor. 

The young teacher loved the feeling of Ragnar’s muscles beneath his fingertips — he was relaxed in Athelstan’s grip and it was a sign of trust that meant everything to the both of them. 

“I’m not leaving”, he reassured. 

After a while Ragnar slowly started to untangle himself from the hug. Athelstan loosened his hold immediately so that he could back away. Ragnar scooted back a little, just staring at Athelstan as if to take in his appearance. He had tried his best to avoid consciously taking in Ragnar. The way he had laid on the concrete floor, no breath moving his chest and how limp and cold he had felt in Athelstan’s arms was still a too fresh image in his mind. And now, as he looked at the man in front of him, he fought hard to keep that image down. 

Now that all the blood had been washed away, Athelstan could see the harsh bruises on his face, discolouring his entire left cheek and eye. A new scar would be forming around his eye in a half-triangle like shape, a rather deep cut that had been closed with tape strips. His split lip was such a minor injury that Athelstan almost did not see it. He sent a silent prayer to the heavens that Ragnar’s hoodie was doing a half-decent job at hiding the dark rings of discoloured skin around his neck and the bandages wrapped around his upper body luckily did not reach the neckline of the grey hoodie. 

“So...what’s with that door?”, Athelstan asked curiously, breaking the comfortable silence between them. Ragnar made a noise deep in his throat, a strange mixture between a sigh and a laugh.

“It used to be our — Aslaug and my — bedroom”, he said quietly, turning his head to stare at the grain of the wood once again. “Door’s been locked since Rollo finished renovating it. I just — I can’t go in there”, Ragnar explained with a shrug. “It all happened there. Not all of it. They did break through the door just like when you were here and somehow they managed to trap us in there and…”, he trailed off, leaving his sentence unfinished. 

The lack of emotion in his voice worried Athelstan. He knew very well that sometimes people became emotionally unattached to their trauma but Ragnar had been very emotionally connected to his past before. Athelstan prayed that it was just his way of processing the past week.

“Oh”, Athelstan mumbled. “Hey, uhm, would you like to take a walk with me and Atreyu?”, he asked. “Depending on how much exercise you’re allowed to do, of course.”

Ragnar chuckled. “I’d love that. I’m allowed to do light exercise like walk around and do household things. But no heavy lifting, no running, no blunt force”, he informed Athelstan with half a smile. 

“Great!”, Athelstan smiled. “Let’s go?”, he asked, standing up swiftly. He watched as Ragnar carefully came to his feet, careful not to put too much pressure on his ribcage. Together, they went downstairs. The scent of sandalwood was strong in Athelstan’s nose, the incense sticks almost fully burned. 

“It smelled like desinfeksjonsmiddel in here”, he said with a shrug when he noticed Athelstan glancing at the object. He huffed out a laugh as they put on their shoes and grabbed their jackets, just in case the evening got cold. Athelstan was sure he spied the glitter of a blade in Ragnar’s boots (finally noticing the purple and yellow laces that Judith had mentioned) but he did not say anything — Ragnar really had more than enough reasons to carry a knife with him. There was no need for keys, seeing as the door’s lock was broken anyway and it would not even fall shut. 

Athelstan was convinced that the walk to his own house became shorter every time he took that route. It seemed like a matter of seconds until they stood in front of Athelstan’s door. He quickly unlocked it, cursing himself for leaving the childproof gate unlocked as Atreyu came storming at them.

But the dog did not jump up at them as if sensing that it might cause harm to the two men. Instead, Atreyu softly pushed his head against their legs and softly nipped at their hands. Athelstan swore to himself that he would give Atreyu extra treats for putting that blissful expression on Ragnar’s face.

Just as Athelstan went inside to quickly grab Atreyu’s leash, he heard a frantic meowing and the soft pitter-patter of catpaws. Elsa raced past him, her meows getting louder as she approached Ragnar. The cat dug her claws into the fabric of his pants and pulled herself upward until Ragnar gently grabbed and cradled her against his chest like a baby. Elsa purred loudly, a sound Athelstan was not quite used to hearing because Elsa was prone to hiding from everyone. 

He smiled softly when he heard Ragnar talking to her in a gentle voice as if he was talking to a child. Athelstan hoped that he would never have to leave this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right so, i do be kinda having another plot point for ragnar's tragic backstory™ but I'm kinda worried that im just playing trauma bingo with this man's life but on the other it do be kinda making sense


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar misses his boys. Athelstan is beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone else got like a vivid movie playing in their head while writing/reading?

“Can we go get the boys from Rollo?”, Ragnar asked as he gently dropped Elsa to the floor. He had been free from their chaos for the past few days and only now that the constant noise was gone, he missed it. Ragnar himself was a chaotic entity, just like his sons and he had always wondered how Aslaug had not lost her mind in the years they had been together “I miss them and he most likely really needs a break.” Athelstan smiled softly as he fastened the leash to Atreyu’s collar. “Yeah, of course!”

Atreyu happily trotted beside Athelstan as they walked to Rollo’s house. The sun was low on the horizon, leaving perhaps an hour of natural light. 

“It’s almost dark”, Athelstan said. “The boys feel comfortable playing in the dark?”, he asked with genuine curiosity. Ragnar supposed that most parents Athelstan knew were very insistent on their children being home before sundown. He shrugged.

“Back in Norway, we lived beyond the polar circle. The sun would not rise for months during autumn and winter”, he explained. “I liked playing in the dark with Rollo.” Those were perhaps the only times of his early childhood that he remembered fondly — despite people insisting that trauma would cause memory loss, he remembered his past vividly. Alone for the weekend, the snow so high that Ragnar could almost hide in it. The two brothers had played for hours until both of them were frozen through, their hands and faces cold and wet despite their winter clothes. 

Ragnar turned his head to look at Athelstan. The sun was outlining his side profile perfectly, reflecting off his dark locks in such a way that it almost looked like a halo. He fought the almost painful urge to run his hands through Athelstan’s hair, to pull him close and inhale the wonderful scent of paper, ink and the smallest hint of vanilla and citrus. Athelstan was beautiful, he suddenly realised. Ragnar cleared his throat, pulling his sleeves over his hands as he focused his attention back on his boots. 

“I don’t think I could live without sun”, Athelstan pondered. Ragnar let out a quiet chuckle. “Well, it’s not too bad if you take vitamin D supplements. And then again, in summer and spring the sun doesn’t set”, he explained. 

“Do you miss Norway?”, Athelstan suddenly asked. Ragnar shifted uncomfortably under Athelstan’s gaze, not raising his head to look at him. 

“A little, I guess. We still own the farm there but I’m sure it’s just ruins now”, he answered. The thought usually made him anxious. His hands would get clammy, his leg would bounce up and down and he would have to find something to fidget with but for some reason, Athelstan's presence kept him calm. 

Unconsciously, he reduced his speed, lost deep in thought. Athelstan was having a strange influence on him — positive but still strange. A nervous habit he had developed as a child — repeating words and sentences — completely faded around Athelstan. Ragnar supposed it was because he always felt like Athelstan  _ wanted  _ to listen to him. Thinking back to his early years, he had been forced to repeat himself so many times for someone to even acknowledge his existence. The questions he had asked a million times as a curious child still unanswered. And even Rollo had a habit of talking over him, deciding what was best for Ragnar and what he should and should not do. Ragnar knew those were big brother instincts and Rollo only wanted his best, especially after what the both of them had gone through but it made him fall back into those habits. 

Athelstan was different. He was so free of judgement, he only offered understanding and support. Ragnar felt that Athelstan really thought of him as someone capable of living his own life. Rollo would always see him as his baby brother — Ragnar was okay with that, really, he was thankful — but often he just did not know how to deal with his brother’s overprotectiveness. Come to think of it, he had no idea how to deal with the love and stability that Athelstan was offering. 

“Ragnar, we’re here”, Athelstan informed him, ripping him out of his thoughts. 

“Right”, Ragnar mumbled, shaking his head slightly to bring himself back to the present moment. He raised his hand and knocked on the door that swung open almost immediately. 

“Hi, dad!”, Hvitserk panted with a big smile on his face. Behind him, Ragnar could see Ubbe and Sigurd chasing each other while Bjorn and Ivar wrestled on the floor. “Hey, kjӕre”, Ragnar greeted him, ruffling the boy’s hair affectionately.

“Rollo!”, he yelled into the house. His sons immediately stopped their games and turned their attention to him. Ubbe and Sigurd came running as Bjorn carefully heaved Ivar up and on his back before they approached the door. 

“Careful!”, Siggy suddenly called, entering Ragnar’s line of vision as the two younger boys went to tackle their father in a hug. They immediately stopped their run and instead opted for a quick and soft embrace, scrunching up their faces as Ragnar messed up their hair — something Rollo had done when he had been younger. 

“Sorry, Rollo is trying to fix the lights in the basement”, Siggy laughed, leaning in the door frame. “How are you?”

Ragnar rolled his eyes playfully. “Idiot should have let me do it....”, he mumbled. “But I’m good. Thought Athelstan and I would come around and take the boys off your hands for a bit?”, he asked. Atreyu barked as if he wanted to voice his agreement. 

“Dog!”, came a collective yell from Ragnar’s son as they finally spotted the golden retriever. They were about to swarm him with cuddles when Ragnar shot them a stern look and they stepped back again.

“Can we pet him?”, Ubbe asked Athelstan, almost jumping up and down on the spot. Laughing, Athelstan nodded and the boys swarmed around him to pet the dog. Atreyu wagged his tail happily at the attention and Ragnar was glad to see his boys so happy, relieved to see that Bjorn’s injury did not seem to be bothering him.

“They’re a handful, I know”, Ragnar said to Siggy. “I’ll take them back, so that you two can finally recover and relax a bit”, he suggested. Siggy stood a little straighter.

“No, Ragnar. You need to take a break. You overworked yourself the past few times and look where that got you”, she scolded him. Ragnar scrunched up his face in thought, a hand unconsciously coming up to lay against his ribcage. 

“It’s not that…”, he mumbled. “I just miss them.” 

Siggy let out a heavy breath and smiled. “Fine. Take them back but please call us if you need anything, okay?”, she asked with an intense stare that left no room for contradictions. 

“Yes, ma’am”, he mumbled. “Tell Rollo I said hi”, Ragnar added and Siggy nodded. She bid him goodbye and closed the door when Ragnar turned his attention back on his sons.

“You wanna go play in the park with Atreyu?”, he asked the children.

“Yes!”, came the enthusiastic response out of five very loud mouths. Ragnar threw his head back and cackled, only now realising just how much he had truly missed this chaotic energy. 

“Let’s go!”, he announced. When the boys broke out into a room, Atreyu pulled on his leash so that Athelstan let him go to run free. Ragnar and Athelstan followed them a little slower on their way, making sure to always have them in their line of vision but Ragnar could not help but wonder if his heart had ever felt so light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry to use this a rant space but also like...i had to wirte my english mock exam about fortnite...wtf :')...anynway my mocks are through now thankfully but real exams are starting in a month yikes...


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar discover some more trauma

Ragnar loved the park he always took his boys to. It was a wonderful alternative to their backyard although they were still not safe from strange stares and crude comments. This evening the park was blissfully empty, only a small group of teenagers was sitting piled up on one of the benches, a speaker between them playing music and bottles of beer in their hands. 

Ragnar and Athelstan were sitting in the dry grass that had still kept some heat from the sun, as the last rays shone down on them. Atreyu was happily zooming around the four boys as they chased him, dragging a giggling Ivar along between them in all sorts of ways. 

“So, what are you going to do now?”, Athelstan asked as Atreyu ran past them. Ragnar turned to face him, not quite sure if he was being serious. He was surprised to find Athelstan already looking at him, nothing but genuine curiosity on his face. The wind ruffled through his brown hair, blowing it in and out of his face. Ragnar was overcome with the sudden urge to reach out and braid it. He heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know”, he answered genuinely. He had never had a chance to think about what he wanted from his life and now that he was not running anymore he felt strangely hollow. As if everything he had been living for was suddenly torn from him. “I’ll be there for my boys as long as I can and then...I don’t know”, Ragnar sighed. 

Athelstan’s expression morphed to show a hint of sadness. “You never thought about life in that way, right?”, he asked and Ragnar nodded. 

“I might try and see what can be salvaged of our farm in Norway but other than that there’s nothing”, he said. The farm up north was something he found himself thinking about very often. Even though life had never been wonderful, his happiest childhood memories laid there and Ragnar wanted to take his sons, maybe even Athelstan, there to show them the dark woods that had been a second home to him. “What do you wanna do with your life?”, Ragnar asked Athelstan. 

The teacher shrugged. “I’m actually quite happy with teaching. Thinking about taking up some volunteer services in the church again, some community work, you know?”, Athelstan answered with a small smile. “Talking about church, the local pastor Ecbert knows you. I think he misses you”, he told Ragnar. 

Ragnar remembered Ecbert fondly. An older man who had taken his questions, that sometimes might have been a tad disrespectful, seriously and had tried to answer them as best as he could. “Yeah, well. When I dropped out of school, I had no reason to come back to church”, he shrugged. 

Athelstan made a choked sound and Ragnar tensed, realising what he had just said. “You dropped out of school?”, Athelstan asked as if he needed confirmation. “But why?” Once again, there was no judgement in his voice. He was shocked, of course but it was not like he was looking at Ragnar differently. Ragnar cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Can I...can I braid your hair while I explain?”, he asked carefully. “Because first of all, seeing your hair move in the wind is driving me insane and second, I need to do  _ something _ .”

Athelstan seemed to think about his request for a while as his face scrunched up in thought. “Alright”, he nodded, turning his back to Ragnar so that he could work on his hair. 

Athelstan’s hair was just as soft as Ragnar had imagined it, he noticed as he could finally indulge in his urge to run his fingers through the teacher’s hair. 

“Oh, a little punk”, Ragnar chuckled, feeling the subtle undercut beneath his fingertips. “Well, as a teacher you can’t exactly go crazy with your hair”, Athelstan complained jokingly. He sighed in content as Ragnar combed his fingers through his hair, careful not to pull on it. “But anyway, what happened?”, Athelstan asked. 

Ragnar parted Athelstan’s hair and started to braid the strands together before he spoke. “I think I was like thirteen or fourteen — the timeline’s a bit wonky — but Lagertha and I, we were together after Rollo took me away from our father. And, well, we were young and dumb and I had a bad night and so...we drank”, Ragnar said. It had been his first time drinking alcohol and he had suddenly understood why his father loved his scotch more than his sons. “We were both black out drunk, could not remember anything but Lagertha was pregnant”, he continued. Weaving his hands through Athelstan’s hair was really a blessing, keeping his attention focused on the repetitive task allowed him to detach himself from the story he told. “After a lot of talks with a lot of people we decided that we wanted the child. That was Bjorn’s sister, Gyda, y’know?”, he smiled softly as he remembered the little girl and the conscious choice to have a second child. “We were already relying so much on other people — Lagertha’s parents, Floki’s parents, Rollo — so I decided to drop out of school and start an apprenticeship, so that Lagertha would be able to continue to go to school”, he said. Lagertha had been a few years older than him and she had had big dreams for her future — something he had deeply loved about her. 

“I finished school two years ago. Aslaug wanted me to be a good example for the boys”, he quickly added. Ragnar knew it was irrational but somehow he feared that Athelstan would think less of him for taking so long to finish school. 

“That’s some dedication”, Athelstan said softly. It sounded like he was smiling and a heavy weight fell from Ragnar’s shoulders. He wondered if this complete and utter understanding and support just came naturally with being a teacher. 

“But how did you manage to get an apprenticeship at that age without graduating?”, he asked. Athelstan went to turn his head but Ragnar gently held him in place so that he could finish braiding his hair, shrugging in response before he realised that Athelstan could not see him. 

“I don’t know”, Ragnar said. “The man was working solo and he sometimes asked — “, he cut himself off, his three years of apprenticeship replaying in his head. “Oh.  _ Oh _ ”, Ragnar gasped as he finished putting the hair tie into Athelstan’s hair. “Yeah, that was definitely not how it should work”, he said, his hands falling from Athelstan’s hair. 

“I’m done!”, he announced, the strange phantom touches and his instructor’s roughened hands lingering in his mind. Come to think of it, the way his father had sometimes grabbed his chin or ran a finger down his spine and told him he looked like his mother was definitely another thing that normal parents did not do. 

“Thank you”, Athelstan whispered softly, his hands stopping Ragnar from marring his arm with his fingernails. Ragnar blinked. These untethered moments were definitely something he needed to get under control. For now though, Athelstan seemed to make sure that he was anchored in reality — the weight of the cross around his neck was comfortingly heavy. 

“You look nice with your hair back”, Ragnar mumbled, his eyes running over every inch of Athelstan’s face, trying to burn it into his mind. The pale blue eyes, the dark scruff on his cheeks, the soft swoosh of his nose and the subtle undercut that was now visible. The sun had set completely and the warm light of the street lamps made Athelstan look like an angel — or at least what Ragnar thought angels should look like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might or might no have seen a fanart of ragnar braiding athelstan's hair


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another unpleasant encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minimum wage discussion at family dinner are fun! /s

The feeling of Ragnar’s hands in his own was heavenly to Athelstan. He had always thought about running his fingers over the soft and gentle hands of the one he loved but holding Ragnar’s hands was different. The skin was roughened by years of manual labor and they were small scabby bits from the splinters of the grenades he had set off and yet Athelstan found that he loved the unevenness of Ragnar’s hands more than any smooth and soft skin he could have ever touched. He wondered what had just clicked in the man’s mind that had caused him to spiral.

Athelstan longed for Ragnar to run his fingers through his hair again. No one had ever done it before and Athelstan was surprised how good it had felt. It was the most wonderful sensation in the world, Athelstan thought, momentarily contemplating if kissing Ragnar would be a way to top the blissful shivers that went through Athelstan’s body. 

Ragnar had averted his attention to his sons, although he was still holding Athelstan’s hands. Somehow, the five had convinced the small group of teenagers to play with them. The music box was still playing — the pop punk song that was playing made Athelstan feel like he was in a Coming of Age movie — but they had switched their beer bottles for sticks and participated in the chase, running around the park with the children and Atreyu. 

It was a strange thought to Athelstan that alcohol apparently was a normal part in a teenagers development. As a result of his overprotected upbringing, the only intoxicating substance he had ever been subjected to before going to university had been the communion wine. How odd that he was now emotionally attached to a man who had made a speedrun through life. 

“Sorry, Athelstan, I need to go check on that real quick”, Ragnar said as he softly untangled his hands from Athelstan and stood up. Panic rose in his chest as he saw the dark figure that was approaching the group of young people, coming especially close to Ubbe who stood there as if frozen in place. 

Ivar screamed suddenly — Athelstan was sure that he faintly saw a rock fly from the boy’s hand — and Ragnar broke out into a run, disregarding everything the doctors had advised him to do for the sake of his boys.

“Ivar, the homicidal intentions stay at home”, Ragnar called to his son once he was finally among them. Athelstan watched as he quickly pulled Ubbe away from the tall figure and pushed the boy behind him. He mumbled something to Bjorn, who was about to protest, but after a pointed look from Ragnar he collected his brothers and jogged over to Athelstan.

The young teacher gathered the children around him, his main focus on Ragnar and the teenagers that had backed off a little. Atreyu was circling around Ragnar, trying to keep the figure at a distance. 

“Hold deg unna barna mine!”, Ragnar growled. Athelstan could not understand the meaning of the words but it did not matter once he saw just how intimidating the man in front of Ragnar truly was. 

If Athelstan had thought that Ragnar was tall, he had not met the man in front of him. The stranger towered over Ragnar, making the other seem like a child and — considering he was taut as a bowstring — he seemed to try his hardest not to cower away. Bjorn let out a surprised gasp and Athelstan looked at him in confusion.

“I— I think that’s our grandfather?”, Bjorn hesitantly explained. All heads turned around again to watch the scene. Ragnar seemed even more a child — because he  _ was _ , Athelstan realised. This man was his father, although they could not look any more different. He supposed that Ragnar took more after his mother and Rollo had more of their father’s side. The man did look just like Rollo, a little taller with short, grey-streaked hair and seemingly more wrinkles but had Rollo been standing next to him they would have been unmistakably father and son. 

The two men were too quiet to understand but their faces were enough to tell that they were having a heated argument. Athelstan saw the small tremors in Ragnar’s hands and he wanted nothing more than to run to him and hold him close, calm him down and tell him that everything would be alright. He wondered how terrifying it must have been to have such an imposing figure looming over you as a child and he had even more respect for Ragnar finally standing his ground. 

There was a horrible moment of stillness as father and son opposed each other. Athelstan could only stare as the man raised his hand and backhanded Ragnar so hard that he stumbled and almost fell to the ground — even Athelstan flinched at the sound of skin hitting skin. Just as suddenly as he had been hit, Ragnar came back with a right hook and suddenly the group of teenagers started to intervene. 

The four young adults yelled at Ragnar’s father, waving their arms up and down to force him back. Atreyu was between them, barking with everything he had and Athelstan had to hold Bjorn back who was most likely about to commit murder. 

Miraculously, the man backed off. He spat some venomous Norwegian words at Ragnar before he turned around and disappeared into the night. The group of teenagers talked to Ragnar for a second and he smiled and nodded at them before they appeared to say goodbye and left. The scene was too far away for Athelstan to hear the normally spoken words. 

Ragnar shook his head slightly before he made his way back to his sons and Athelstan. The teacher squinted as the man approached, Atreyu on his heels. 

“You’re bleeding”, he said when Ragnar had stopped in front of them. A confused expression entered Ragnar’s face as he raised a tentative hand to his cheek — the side of his face that had not been bruised already. 

“Fucking rings”, he muttered as he looked at his reddened fingers. 

“Er du ok?”, Bjorn asked softly. Somehow, Athelstan was surprised that the boys seemed to know at least a bit of Norwegian. Ragnar nodded. “Jeg er ok”, he said, reaching up to ruffle Bjorn’s blonde hair. The two were almost the same height and Athelstan was sure that one day, Bjorn would be taller than his father. 

“Let’s go home”, Ragnar said softly. He made a motion to pick up Ivar to carry him but Athelstan put a hand on his shoulder to hold him back. 

“You’re supposed to rest”, Athelstan reminded him and bent down himself to pick the boy up. “And if you’d like, you can stay with me for a while, seeing as that door does not really do its job any more. Besides, you’re Elsa-approved, already”, he offered as they started to make their way back.

He was met with excited cheers from the boys, seemingly happy at the prospect of living with a dog and Ragnar smiled softly.

“That’d be wonderful. Thank you, Athelstan”, he said and Atreyu ran around them happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations
> 
> Hold deg unna barna mine! - Stay away from my children!
> 
> Er du ok? - Are you okay?
> 
> Jeg er okay. - I am fine.


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan's floor and Elsa cuddling Ragnar happen.

Athelstan was convinced that through the entire walk home, there had been a knot in his stomach. He had been prepared for disaster. Ragnar had been pale and shaky, only muttering his answers to the small questions his sons asked him. Every so often he would raise his arms to his face to wipe the trickles of blood from his cheek and Athelstan would see the small twitch of his fingers. 

Now, they were sitting in Athelstan’s living room — on the floor, of course. When they had entered, Elsa had peeked out from underneath the sofa and Ragnar had gone straight to her, sitting down in front of the cat so that she could climb into his lap. The five boys were sitting curled up against each other, Atreyu in their middle and Athelstan was trying to get Ragnar to hold still as he attempted to clean the small cuts on his face. 

The cat in his lap helped tremendously to keep him calm but every time Athelstan tried to touch his cheek, he would move his head away. Athelstan was not about to just hold his head in place — he wanted Ragnar to hold still because he would be comfortable with it. Judging by the slight untethered look in his eyes and the way he absentmindedly stroked Elsa’s fur, not minding that her claws were digging into his thigh, Athelstan realised that this small encounter had shaken Ragnar deep to his core. Athelstan desperately wanted to know the meaning of the words the two men had exchanged before the situation had escalated but Ragnar needed to calm down first before Athelstan would dare to ask questions. 

“Ragnar, please”, Athelstan said softly into the silence. Ragnar raised his head to look at him — for the first time since they had arrived. Athelstan’s heart broke into a million pieces when he saw blue eyes swimming with tears. 

“He knows”, Ragnar whispered. “He said he knows and I’ll pay for not telling.” His hand curled into Elsa’s fur and he let his head fall against Athelstan’s chest. Instinctively, Athelstan cradled his face in his hands, tucking Ragnar under his chin. 

“Know what?”, Sigurd dared to ask. Bjorn aggressively nudged his brother’s shoulder to shush him. Ragnar sighed heavily, lazily turning his head so that he was looking at his sons. 

“Those bad people wanted something from me that I don’t have”, Ragnar explained slowly, carefully considering every word before he spoke. “And for some reason, he wants that to now.” Athelstan had half a mind to go out and just _accidentally_ run Ragnar’s father over. They had just finished one horrible chapter of life and Athelstan was not necessarily keen on opening a new one

The five boys looked thoughtful as they mulled the words over and a long silence progressed. 

“I say we kill him!”, Ivar piped happily. Ragnar buried his head deeper into Athelstan’s chest, the sound that left his throat somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. “Ivar you can’t just kill people. That is illegal and we have been over this”, he explained, his voice muffled by Athelstan’s shirt. Ivar pouted and Sigurd stuck his tongue out at them. “See! I told you!”, the blond boy exclaimed. 

Ragnar lifted his head off Athelstan. “Alright then. Arguments about murderous intentions call for bedtime”, he said to his sons before he turned to Athelstan. “You don’t happen to have five toothbrushes laying around?”, he asked. 

Athelstan had been so lost in the interaction between Ragnar and his sons that he scurried up in shock at being talked to directly. “Actually, I do!”, he said happily.

Ragnar made a move to stand up, most likely to help his sons get to bed but Athelstan held out a hand to make him stop. 

“You stay there”, he said with a pointed look. “Elsa has chosen you, don’t ruin that. Don’t worry, I’ll show them everything and set up somewhere to sleep in the guestroom”, Athelstan explained to him. Ragnar made a small whine of protest but did not question Athelstan further because Elsa decided to jump at his chest and put her paws on his shoulders. Athelstan’s heart felt so comfortably warm at hearing Ragnar’s content sigh as he buried his face into the cat’s fur and the teacher wondered what it would be like to wake up to this every day. 

“Alright boys, you heard him”, Athelstan said, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Let’s go!” He was not prepared for the four of them to scramble up, each of them grabbing one of Ivar’s limbs to hauk him up. The boy giggled as his brothers carried him, following a very confused Athelstan through the house. 

He quickly gave them toothbrushes and toothpaste and after Bjorn assured him that they would be fine alone, Athelstan scurried off to set up some mattresses, blankets and pillows for the family to sleep on. 

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”, Ragnar called from the living room for what must have been the third time. Fortunately, Athelstan was done and on his way back. “No but thank you. Sometimes you need to trust people when they say that they don’t help”, Athelstan said as he sat down on the floor opposite of Ragnar. He was holding Elsa in his arms like a newborn as she purred loudly. 

“Well, yeah. But I do know that my boys can be a little much for some people”, he shrugged. “Especially Ivar. If you ever have to supervise him and Lizzy, make sure that they don’t have access to anything that can be turned into a weapon”, Ragnar laughed. 

Athelstan looked at him with confusion — he could not speak for Ivar but Lizzy was usually a very peaceful girl. “Are they both in their homicidal stages?”, he asked.

Ragnar nodded with a grin. “I try to entertain it in safe ways. Once a week Ivar is allowed to use my throwing knives with my help”, he shrugged as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Athelstan had to admit, he was not one bit surprised that Ragnar owned throwing knives. 

“Were you like that as a child?”, Athelstan asked carefully before he could remember what Rollo had told him about Ragnar’s first criminal encounter. 

“I mean, no? I never actively sought out violence”, he said thoughtfully as he assisted Elsa trying to climb onto his shoulder so that she could lay around his neck. “It all just kind of….found me, I guess? I stabbed someone when I was twelve.”

Even though he had already known about this part of Ragnar, Athelstan was still taken aback at how casually he had said it. On one hand, Athelstan was sure that it was a sign of trust that he greatly appreciated but on the other hands, it could not be good to be this casual about murder. _Not murder_ , Athelstan scolded himself, _self-defense._ But before he could reply, Ragnar had excused himself to bid goodnight to his sons and left the room. 

Atreyu tiredly walked over to Athelstan, gently putting his head on his thighs. With a sigh, the teacher scratched the golden retriever’s head. 

“We’ll help them when times get rough, won’t we?”, he asked quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy international women's day! or as my socialist, leftist youth group says: happy international feminist fight day!


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athelstan learns some more about Ragnar's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this started out very wholesome and it turned real sad real quick, idk what happened. also, someone teach this poor man how to sit

A faint singing came to Athelstan’s ears as he sat on the floor, Atreyu cuddled into his side. He smiled softly, listening to the voice. It was nothing professional — just a faint good night song, but it was sung with such tenderness that it brought a sense of calm over Athelstan. He wanted to protect that voice, do everything to keep it just as soft and tender as it was. The melody was unfamiliar to him even though the words were English. 

_ “Stand up high in the prow, noble barque I steer” _ , the voice sang softly.

As quietly as he could, Athelstan stood up to search for the source of the melody. Atreyu followed him, his paws making small clicking sounds on the wooden floor. The words of the song became clearer with every step, the voice still staying just barely above a whisper. 

When Athelstan finally approached the guest bedroom, Ragnar was sitting in the door frame, his legs perched up on one side of the wooden structure, his back leaned against the opposite side. His lips moved with the words of the song, the soft melody coming from his throat. In the room behind him, his five sons laid on the mattresses Athelstan had put down for them to sleep on. Occasionally, a soft snore sounded from the dark — at least one of the boys was already asleep. 

Elsa was still laying on Ragnar’s chest, Athelstan saw as he approached. Ragnar turned his head slightly, smiling at him but not stopping the lullaby he was singing to his sons. Athelstan sat down across from him, crossing his legs and closing his eyes to soak in the melody. Atreyu’s tail patted softly against the floor and Elsa accompanied Ragnar’s voice with her lazy purrs. 

It felt like eternity and the blink of an eye at the same time until Ragnar’s voice faded out and only Athelstan’s pets disturbed the silence. He slowly opened his eyes when he felt Atreyu nudging his thigh. Ragnar had turned his head to watch over his sons as they slept and Athelstan took the opportunity to take him in once again, admiring the tattoos that adorned his skin, skimming over the bruises and scars, wishing that no pain would ever befall him again. 

“You sing your sons to sleep?”, Athelstan whispered, scared to disturb the silence. Ragnar did not turn his head as he answered but he kept his volume down to let his sons sleep peacefully. “Sometimes”, he said. “Especially in unknown environments they have trouble falling asleep. It helps them.”

“That’s wonderful”, Athelstan said. “What was that song? I’ve never heard it before”, he asked. Ragnar pressed his face into Elsa’s fur before he looked at Athelstan to answer. “Rollo used to sing it to me. Just after we moved here”, he explained softly, crossing his legs against the doorframe. “It felt like home and at the same time I learned some English”, Ragnar chuckled. Athelstan’s brows scrunched up in confusion, trying once again to piece Ragnar’s life together. He must have noticed his expression because Ragnar kept talking after a short pause.

“I was six when we moved, Rollo was twelve. It was awful, really. I had just finished my first year of school and had new friends and everything, and then suddenly I was thrown into this new world with new people and new words and even my own father refused to speak Norwegian to us. Rollo was a little luckier, he had been learning English for a few years but me?”, he shrugged, not completely finishing the thought. 

Athelstan’s blood ran cold. He knew Ragnar’s father was a horrible man — he had even seen it himself just a few hours ago — but at least to Athelstan, this was a whole new level of terrible. Refusing to speak your native tongue to your child and giving him no help to adjust to a new place? Athelstan had felt lost when he had entered university but at least he had been able to understand the language there. 

“What would happen when you did not speak English?”, Athelstan asked hesitantly. He was terrified of the answer but he needed to know. Ragnar sighed deeply, glancing at his son — there was so much love in his expression that Athelstan wanted to cry. 

“It was nothing bad, honestly. If I was lucky, he would just pretend that I did not exist and if he was in a mood he would just push me around or hit me”, he said casually, as if this was just the way that people grew up. Athelstan wanted to vomit. He tried imagining his parents in such a horrible way but they had been so full of love and light that it was impossible. “I only rarely speak Norwegian. I’m trying to do it more, just out of spite but somehow I still always tense up even when I’m alone.”

“You say it like it’s nothing but it should not happen in any way. At all”, Athelstan told him, trying to put as much meaning as he could into every word. Ragnar did not turn his head to face him, he just shrugged. Athelstan could not even be mad at the lack of response. Perhaps it was easier for Ragnar to pretend that this was just how parents treated their children.

“You know, Athelstan, sometimes I think I should thank him”, Ragnar said. His words came out slow as if he was not quite sure if he really wanted to say them. 

“Why — Why would you say that? That man was horrible!”, Athelstan whisper-yelled at him, sitting up a little straighter, ready to defy every justification Ragnar would bring up. 

“It’s just...these guys could not get to me as much as they hoped, y’know? Like, often I thought to myself  _ I had worse _ and I’m sure, if I had not been raised the way I was, I would have not even fought. I would have delivered the message and they would have killed me on the spot”, Ragnar explained, taking a short break to look at his sons again. “For all it’s worth, he made me strong.”

Athelstan shook his head, sliding on his knees so that he was closer to Ragnar. He gently took his hands that were buried in Elsa’s fur and gripped them tight. Not the kind of tight that hurt, but the kind of tight that made you feel safe and protected — at least in Athelstan’s opinion. He made sure Ragnar was looking at him before he spoke.

“No, Ragnar, listen to me, okay?”, he said intently, feeling his voice crack. Ragnar nodded and Athelstan swore that he saw tears in his eyes. 

“You were a child. You did not need to be strong, okay? You needed to be safe”, he whispered, letting go of Ragnar’s hands to hold his face. Ragnar did not respond. He just stared at Athelstan, blinking away tears that were threatening to spill. A small trickle of blood ran down his chin where he had chewed his split lip open again. There was a silence as both of them breathed hard, trying to keep their tears at bay. 

“I know”, Ragnar finally whispered, his voice cracking. He buried his face in the crook of Athelstan’s neck, cold tears staining the teacher's skin as he held Ragnar’s shaking shoulders. No heart-wrenching sobs tore themselves from the man’s throat and somehow, the silence was worse than any scream.


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is a strange thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo.........ragnar is being especially angsty in this one, i apologise

Athelstan was overwhelmed with the situation. Comforting a crying child because they fell and hurt themselves? Easy. Comforting an adult man because for the first time in his life he realised how truly twisted his upbringing was? Not so easy. 

Not knowing what to say, Athelstan just continued to hold Ragnar to his chest. There was a wet spot where his tears had soaked through Athelstan’s top but it did not matter. All that mattered was that Athelstan was holding Ragnar, helping him through whatever was happening in his heart. 

He was not sure how much time had passed but eventually, Ragnar’s shoulders stilled and his breaths became calmer as he collected his emotions again.

“Thank you”, he mumbled into Athelstan’s shoulder.

“Y- Yeah, sure! No worries!”, Athelstan stuttered. Ragnar gently pushed him back so that he could sit up again. He wiped his eyes with his sleeves, groaning slightly at the movement. 

“Sorry about that”, he said quietly. “You don’t happen to have pain medication on you? I think I’ve been moving around a little too much”, Ragnar asked. He glanced at his sons, sighing in relief when he saw that they were still asleep. Athelstan swiftly got to his feet.

“Most likely, I’ll be right back”, he answered. Atreyu followed behind him as he quickly went to the bathroom to rummage through his medicine cabinet. Grabbing a bottle of Tylenol, he hurried back to where Ragnar was still sitting in the door frame. Elsa had reclaimed her spot in his chest and Ragnar was staring into the dark room, watching over his sons as they slept peacefully, not having noticed anything of what had happened.

“Here”, Athelstan whispered as he sat down and held the bottle out to Ragnar. He whispered a thanks as he took the bottle from Athelstan and picked out two tablets, dry swallowing them. 

“Wow, slow down there, bud”, Athelstan warned, genuinely concerned. “Those are five hundred miligram ones.”

Ragnar just shrugged. “Then two is still a safe dose. My body tends to be resistant to these”, he explained to Athelstan. The teacher was not sure if that was an excuse or a justification but he was not about to question it.

“So, then what do you do if that does not help?”, he asked. This man continued to surprise and intrigue him. “Ah, that’s what the weed is for”, Athelstan suddenly realised. Ragnar grinned and playfully rolled his eyes.

“It’s medication, Athelstan”, he scolded jokingly. If it had not been for Ragnar’s reddened eyes and the tear-stains on Athelstan’s shirt, he could have pretended that the last few minutes had never happened. 

“Excuse me for not being too familiar with the medical properties of marijuana”, Athelstan chuckled. Ragnar stuck his tongue out at him, just like Sigurd had done to Ivar when they were sitting on the floor in the living room.  _ Like father, like son _ , Athelstan thought.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this but the first time you were having a panic attack and now I didn’t have my best moment”, Ragnar said, making a vague motion with his hand that was not currently scratching Elsa’s neck. “What the fuck happened to your table? It looks like someone chewed on that.”

Athelstan could not help the laugh that escaped his throat. “Spot on! Atreyu bit a piece of it out. No clue how, but he did”, he explained. Atreyu lifted his head at the mention of his name, looking back and forth between Ragnar and Athelstan. Ragnar looked at the golden retriever the same way he had looked at Ivar when the boy had wanted to launch some porridge at his brother Hvitserk. 

“You ate a glass table?”, he whisper-yelled at the dog. Atreyu released a high-pitched sound from the back of his throat as if to voice his confirmation. “That’s impressive.”

“What is your secret to making my pets fall in love with you?”, Athelstan laughed. Truly, he was glad that the two had approved of Ragnar because Athelstan intended on spending as much time as possible with him. 

“Children, pets, same thing basically”, Ragnar said with a shrug. They both turned to watch the sleeping boys, falling into a comfortable silence. 

“Is this what you do all night?”, Athelstan asked after a while. “Watch over your sons?” Ragnar hummed in agreement. “Yes. I usually don’t sleep anyway, so I want to make sure that they do. And when they have nightmares, I’m there to help them”, he explained with a soft smile. “When Bjorn lashed out at a fellow student, he had had a nightmare that night”, he continued, his gaze still focused on his children. There was such a tenderness and love in his eyes that Athelstan found it hard to believe that Ragnar had no parental example he could have copied. “We usually end up camping in the living room in just a gigantic pile of blankets and pillows”, Ragnar smiled. 

A warm feeling spread through Athelstan’s veins. He had never wanted children of his own but whenever he saw Ragnar interact with his son or whenever he talked about them, Athelstan imagined what it would be like to be part of this family. 

“That sounds absolutely adorable!”, Athelstan replied. Ragnar only nodded, his hands lazily combing through Elsa’s thick fur. 

“They trust you”, Ragnar suddenly said, turning to face Athelstan again. “They would not sleep this soundly if they did not feel safe at your house”, he explained. A strange sense of pride coursed through Athelstan. Just like his pets had approved of Ragnar, Ragnar’s sons had approved of him. “Wow..that’s...that’s wonderful”, he whispered, not wanting to disturb their rest. 

“Can I ask something personal?”, Athelstan inquired. Ragnar raised an expectant eyebrow. “As if we haven’t been personal this entire time...but sure, ask away”, he encouraged but still, Athelstan hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. 

“Well, today in the park”, he stared nervously, his heart hammering in his chest, “you seemed to realise something — something that seemed...bad? Can you...would you like to tell me?”, he stuttered. Ragnar heaved a deep sigh and shrugged.

“Sure”, he said without expression. “Nothing major. My instructor was an absolute creep. He was nice though”, he told Athelstan. His voice sounded choked, as if he was desperately trying to keep the emotions out of it and his words only raised more questions in Athelstan. 

“What- what are you implying, Ragnar?”, Athelstan dared to ask. He had horrible ideas but he refused to entertain any of them until Ragnar would prove any of them. Ragnar let his head hang low. Elsa gently pawed at his face, almost as if to tell him that everything would be okay. 

“He was one of the first adults to say he was proud of me. He was nice and gentle and even though I hated him, he never hit me, okay?”, Ragnar whispered angrily. “Back then I thought,  _ Hey! Maybe this is how you show your love _ and I never questioned it. I did not have too much to go on there, especially since my father sometimes was almost like him”, he further elaborated. 

Athelstan’s head spun. Really, Ragnar raised more questions than he answered and Athelstan would have loved to have some more insight into his mind. He blinked in confusion and decided to entertain his ideas.

“No, no! That’s not love, Ragnar, that’s assault. Once again, you were a child and you needed a safe environment but people exploited you. That. Is. Not. Love”, Athelstan said decidedly. Frustrated, Ragnar got to his feet. Elsa quickly jumped onto his shoulder, sitting there like a parrot on a pirate’s shoulder. 

“Don’t you think I know that now?”, he whisper-yelled, still being careful that his sons would not wake up. Tears shimmered in his blue eyes. “But it’s easier to pretend, okay? I don’t know what love is, Athelstan. Did I love Lagertha? Maybe, but we were teenagers! Did Aslaug and I love each other? No, we used each other to keep us alive, but it’s easier to pretend. Did my father love me? Did my instructor love me? No! But it is easier to pretend that they did, okay?!”, his voice was just barely audible as he tried to keep quiet despite the tears now running down his face. “I know that I love my sons and Rollo and Floki. That’s a different kind of love, though, love forged by blood and hardened over the years. But other than that? Athelstan, I don’t know what love is! I don’t know how relationships work, I don’t know anything! I was thrown into this world and no one explained to me how everything’s supposed to work because Rollo was too busy making sure that I stayed alive and now I just pretend that everything that happened was right just so that I don’t have to face it, okay?!”

Ragnar fell to his knees and buried his head in his heads. His entire body trembled but he was not crying and Athelstan was horrified. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really hope i'm using all these past progressive etc tense right....my teacher will literally behead me if i dont lol


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is a strange thing

For a long, horrible moment Athelstan was frozen in shock. His mouth opened and closed uselessly, not finding the appropriate words to express his feelings. Ragnar was kneeling on the floor, face hidden in his hands and his chest heaved with the rapid breaths he was taking. Even though he was not crying, his entire body trembled.

Athelstan took a few long and deep breaths to collect his thoughts. Before he approached Ragnar, he reached out to close the door to the guest room, in hopes that the children would sleep through whatever was going to happen. Slowly, so that he would not startle Ragnar, he crawled over to him. Athelstan reached a hand out to stroke Ragnar’s back in a calming manner but he stopped before he could touch him, reconsidering his thought process. Perhaps it was not the smartest idea to touch someone who was reliving and realising trauma. Athelstan heaved a sigh.

“Look at me, please”, Athelstan whispered. He tentatively raised his head at the request but Athelstan was not quite sure if Ragnar was looking  _ at _ him or  _ through  _ him. His stare was so empty, so void of emotions, he could have been a bruised and scratched porcelain doll with glass eyes. 

“It’s not shameful to not know what love is”, Athelstan started quietly. Ragnar blinked once, still no emotion showing in his eyes but his entire body still shook with distress. 

“Many people don’t know. Heck,  _ I _ don’t even know. People can teach you what a healthy relationship is, they can teach you how to treat people with respect but no one can tell you what love is, okay?”, he asked. He felt the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and angrily wiped them away with the back of his hand. Still without emotion or without so much as even shifting his gaze, Ragnar reached out to hold his hand. Ragnar’s skin was clammy and cold, the only sign of the fear that was really bubbling inside him. Athelstan smiled before he continued. 

“Love is something individual. Everyone feels it differently and that’s why no one can tell you what it is. You have to find out yourself”, he explained, desperate to get a response from Ragnar but there was still nothing except his cold skin against Athelstan’s hands. 

“Some people figure it out on their own and some need a little help. Those who need help find something that will show them what love is. A hobby, a pet — perhaps even a person”, Athelstan finished. His throat was closing up with panic when Ragnar still stared at him with empty, glassy eyes. 

Suddenly, Ragnar’s grip on his hand became so tight that it almost hurt. Athelstan looked at their joined hands. Ragnar’s knuckles were turning white, save for the small scabs he had gotten from punching his father. (It had been a good move, Athelstan had to admit.) When Athelstan looked back up again, he almost reeled back at the sudden emotions in Ragnar’s eyes. 

His blue eyes glowed in the dim light of the hallway. Athelstan could drown in that colour, an ocean with mile-high waves that would drown anyone who was not a seasoned sailor. 

“Will you be my person?”, Ragnar whispered, the muscles in his bruised jaw working hard as he chewed his lip again. The blood was flowing down his chin again, it was never going to heal if he kept biting it. 

Almost instinctively Athelstan reached out his free hand and carefully ran his thumb across Ragnar’s bottom lip. “Stop doing that. It’ll only make it worse”, he mumbled. Ragnar instantly stopped, looking at the floorboards like a scolded child. 

“Do you want me to be your person?”, Athelstan asked. He would say yes in a heartbeat. Showing Ragnar what love was, how a relationship was supposed to function, that was everything he had ever wanted from the first moment they had talked. Still, he had doubts. Did Ragnar only latch onto him because he had shown him basic respect and had listened to his problems? Or was he actually talking from a completely rational point of view?

“Do you actually want this? Or am I just the first person who respects you?”, he asked. What he had not expected was for Ragnar to giggle. The smile on his face was bright when he looked at Athelstan.

“It might play into this but Athelstan, your personality is such a wonderful thing. I love the way you interact with the world. You have this...this aura? It’s so calm and trustworthy. Meeting you felt like a breath of fresh air. I am completely rational. I want you to be my person”, Ragnar explained to him. His voice was strong and sure, no shakiness, no breaks. He was thinking clearly. The smile that lit up Athelstan’s face was so wide that it almost hurt his cheeks. 

“I would love to be your person”, he confirmed. “But I want you to be my person too. I still have a lot to learn.”

Ragnar grinned at him. With the bruises and cuts on his face, the dried tears, the small streak of blood and his glowing eyes, he looked almost feral but Athelstan was sure he had never seen a man that was more beautiful. 

“I’ll be your person. Happily”, Ragnar confirmed. 

Silently, they sat across from each other. Both of their faces lit up with the brightest smiles they had ever worn as they admired each other. Their hands fit together perfectly, Athelstan realised. His own warm, slightly smaller hands that were so often covered in colourful ink from the many pens he used had found their exact counterpart in Ragnar’s cold, roughened hands that, instead of being covered in ink, were just as often covered in scratches and scabs. It was as if their hands were made to hold each other. 

Ragnar’s head fell against Athelstan’s chest once again. This time, there were no tears, there was no distress, just a satisfied purr deep in the back of his throat. No wonder why Elsa and Atreyu loved him so much, Athelstan thought. Ragnar was the combined human version of a cat and a wolfdog. He chuckled at the thought, wrapping his arms around Ragnar’s waist to pull him closer. 

The man in his arms shifted so that a single blue eye gazed up at Athelstan. “You’re really pretty”, Ragnar whispered, reminding Athelstan of a teenage boy that had fallen in love for the first time. A blush crept up his cheeks and he turned his face away, an airy laugh leaving his lips.

“Noooo!”, Ragnar whined, sitting up in Athelstan’s arms. “Let me look at you face”, he pouted. With a playful roll of his eyes, Athelstan turned his face back to Ragnar. They were so close that their nose almost touched. Ragnar’s shaky breath was hot on Athelstan’s skin, leaving small goosebumps on his neck. Athelstan’s eyes flickered to Ragnar’s bloodied lips for just a split second and the man cocked his head to the side curiously. Athelstan could not help himself.

His left hand curled into Ragnar’s side, his right hand coming up to hold his bruised jaw. Gently but firmly, so that he would have the chance to pull back, Athelstan pulled him impossibly closer, bridging the gap between their lips. 

Kissing Ragnar felt like a puzzle had been completed. As if a part that had been missing in Athelstan’s life had finally fallen into place. It was perfect.

The taste of coffee and ginger lingered on Athelstan’s tongue as they parted — it was the most wonderful addition to Ragnar’s earthy scent. A cold hand ghosted along his cheek.

“Do it again”, Ragnar whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the moment we've been waiting for!...it is chapter 58 and i was still like...IS IT TOO EARLY? but ngl, i was getting frustrated too, these idiots just needed to kiss already.


	59. Chapter 59

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dogs are cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think wr have passed the word count of harry potter and the philosopher's stone lol.
> 
> i am SO happy that the last chapter was so well received by everyone! thank you so much for all your lovely comments :)

Ragnar hated people touching him. He hated people trying to hug him and he particularly hated people touching his face. But somehow, when Athelstan kissed again, Ragnar found that he did not mind the hand that was holding onto his jaw. Athelstan’s skin was warm and soft, no cold leather gloves or scarred palms that scratched along his face and neck. 

He locked his hands in the back of Athelstan’s neck, sinking into the feeling of kissing him. The scars on his forearms and on his back burned, his father was screaming in his head but it did not matter. All that mattered was the feeling of Athelstan on his lips and the warmth coursing through his body. 

It was not like people always described kissing, no fireworks or explosions in his stomach. It was better. Kissing Athelstan felt like coming home. 

It felt just like those times during the polar nights where Ragnar’s father had been gone for the weekend. He and Rollo were playing in the dim light until the snow had soaked into their bones. With red and frozen faces, they had gone inside and while Ragnar kindled a small fire in the fireplace and curled up in a blanket, Rollo made them hot chocolate. Then they would sit in silence for a while, Ragnar giggling at the tingly feeling when his hands and feet started to warm up again, and when Ragnar started to yawn in his brother’s arms, Rollo would start to tell stories. The wonderful, great and bloody stories of the north. Old and full of power, defeat and victory. These stories always made Ragnar feel like he could do anything. 

That’s what kissing Athelstan felt like. It was home, it was warm and Athelstan's soft hands on his hip and face were so wonderful. Ragnar would have never thought that he would ever love someone touching him, he would have never thought that he  _ wanted _ someone to touch him but Athelstan was different. His hands were always feather-light, giving Ragnar the chance to pull away if he needed to. It was more than he could have ever asked for. 

Slowly, Ragnar pulled away and laid his forehead against Athelstan's. He gently stroked the back of his neck, smiling to himself.

"Hey, are you okay?", Athelstan whispered, his thumb coming up to wipe away fresh tears on Ragnar's cheeks. "Why are you crying?", he asked again, his voice incredibly soft and close to breaking.

Ragnar chuckled. "Happy tears, Athelstan, happy tears", he assured the other man. "This...this was the most wonderful thing." 

He meant it. Despite his arms and back hurting in phantom pain and the harsh voice of his father yelling in his head, it was the best thing he had ever done. Perhaps because he trusted Athelstan. Perhaps because Athelstan smelled nice. Perhaps because he felt something for Athelstan he had never felt before and maybe, just maybe, he felt a smidge of spite. A desire deep within to let this one part of himself that no one would ever control be visible to everyone. 

"It truly was", Athelstan agreed. He wrapped his arms around Ragnar's waist once again, sitting back a little to get a proper look at him. "So...what are we now? Where does this leave us?", he asked hesitantly. 

Ragnar only shrugged, his hands still locked at the back of Athelstan's neck. "Do we have to put a label on it?", he said. "Let's do whatever we want with this, okay? I don't wanna be confined by labels. Not again", Ragnar mumbled, softly shaking his head. 

There was a quiet laugh from Athelstan. "That sounds like a wonderful plan", he smiled. "No labels, no rules. Just whatever  _ we _ want this to be!" 

An overwhelming sense of freedom washed over Ragnar and he was sure if had not been sitting already, he would have fallen to his knees. He had just broken out of chains and cages so many people had forced him into and, even though he did not think Athelstan capable of it, he had been scared for a moment that he would be forced into the next cage, still confined by rules and expectations. But no, just he had come to know Athelstan, the man let him voice his thoughts and wishes and accepted and even shared them.

A comfortable silence set around the two as they just held each other, both craving the gentle embrace. 

"Atreyu, det er ekkelt", Ragnar laughed, when a rough tongue locked over his cheek. Athelstan fell into a fit of goggles as Atreyu desperately tried to get Ragnar's attention.

"Okay, fine! Fine!", Ragnar said, a little louder than he had intended. He took his hands from Athelstan's neck and turned his attention to the golden retriever. The dog jumped at him, putting his paws on Ragnar's shoulders as his tail wagged playfully. 

Ragnar roughed up his fur, making strange faces at Atreyu which drew the most wonderful laughs from Athelstan's throat. Atreyu yapped at his nose light-heartedly and Ragnar did the same, baring his teeth as he let out a playful growl. 

"No wonder why he likes you so much", Athelstan chuckled. Ragnar grinned at Athelstan. "You'd be surprised at how many people told me I'm like a rabid dog", he laughed. Surprisingly, for the first time in his life, Ragnar had no problem in admitting it. He had no problem with the voices inside his head that taunted him for using his teeth and voice as the only weapon available to him. A trait he tended to hate about himself. This absolute refusal to submit to anyone or anything was perhaps his most self destructive antic.

Once again, Athelstan made everything different. Ragnar's defiance seemed to be something Athelstan admired and he found that he had no quarrels about letting himself fall into Athelstan's arms and just  _ trust _ him. Athelstan appeared to laugh the way he acted with his pets, and so Ragnar did not mind that it had so often been used to hurt him. 

With Atreyu half standing on his shoulders, Ragnar turned to look at Athelstan, a grin on his face. Athelstan smiled back.

"While I absolutely  _ love _ watching you both, I would really love to sleep for a bit", he yawned, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Ragnar's heart suddenly got warm. The way the brown locks fell into Athelstan's face and the way he tiredly blinked at Ragnar with still the hint of a smile on his face was absolutely heavenly. 

If Ragnar was being honest, he could do with some sleep too. The silence and emptiness of his hospital room had made his nightmares worse and he had not dared to ask for medication, afraid that he would not jerk awake just in time.

He swallowed thickly, carefully considering his question.

"Can I...can I sleep next to you?", he asked hesitantly.


	60. Chapter 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nights are tough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im fairly sure that this will not be finished under the 100k word mark.. hope y'all stick around:)

Naturally, Athelstan had given way to Ragnar's request. It would be a nice change for the teacher to have a human body next to him instead of a furry companion. Besides, Athelstan's bed was big enough for two, even three, people but Atreyu and Elsa loved to take up the entire space. And so it came that Athelstan was sitting on his bed, Elsa at the bottom end, both of them waiting for Ragnar to check up on his sons. When Athelstan had left, the carpenter had tried to explain to Atreyu how to watch over the children and how to alert him when his sons would wake. Funnily enough, Atreyu had sat still, tail wagging lazily, and  _ listened _ to what Ragnar was saying. If he had actually understood it was another matter.

Quiet footsteps sounded through the hallway and Ragnar stood in the doorway. Elsa lifted her head from where it was laying on the mattress and meowed at him. Ragnar returned the noise with a grin, causing Athelstan to chuckle softly.

"They're sleeping", Ragnar whispered as he walked over to Athelstan. The teacher watched him intently. Black sweatpants hung low on his hips, a small part of the hem of his underwear showing where his t-shirt had been messily tucked into his sweatpants so that it would not shift under his hoodie that he had been wearing earlier. His left forearm was covered in a bandage, lines of a tattoo sneaking out of it and into the sleeves of his shirt while the skin of his right arm was adorned with the similar lines, broken up and intertwined by thin, white scars. Athelstan found that he had gotten weirdly used to the bruises on his face, but the angry choke marks around his neck still made Athelstan's blood boil.

Once again, Athelstan realised how beautiful Ragnar was, even in his beaten state. 

Ragnar sat down on the other side of the bed, crossing his legs, supporting his head with his hands as he stared at Athelstan. There was this curiosity in Ragnar's eyes that Athelstan had never seen before. No one had ever looked at him like that and if he was being honest, he loved the feeling Ragnar gave him. As if he was the most interesting person on this earth, as if Ragnar wanted to know everything about him.

"You should try to sleep", Athelstan whispered to Ragnar. "I'm sure hospitals aren't that comfortable and abandoned warehouses aren't any better", he said. A chuckle came from Ragnar's throat.

"No, no they're not", he agreed as he slipped under the covers. "But I get nightmares. Often. I'm sorry in advance if I wake you up", he warned Athelstan, his eyes glued to the ceiling. Elsa carefully walked over the bed to curl up on his chest, causing Ragnar to bury a hand in her fur.

"No worries", Athelstan assured him, joining the other man under the covers. "I'd rather have you wake me than you being completely alone with this."

Ragnar smiled at the ceiling. "Thank you", he whispered. Athelstan hummed to signal that he had heard him and then they laid in silence in the darkness, both of them enjoying the warmth of another body next to them as they slowly fell asleep.

A paw repeatedly hitting his face was what made Athelstan slowly open his eyes. Elsa stood on his chest, her yellow eyes glowing in the dark. Athelstan blinked in confusion before he realised that there was no one lying next to him anymore. As his brain slowly came awake, he heard the choked, rapid breaths sounding throughout the room.

Athelstan shot up, Elsa jumping away from his chest with a displeased hiss. In the dark, he looked around, scrambling out of the bed when he saw Ragnar kneeling on the floor.

He was curled in on himself, gently rocking back and forth. Frantic, whispered words left his mouth and as Athelstan slowly approached him, he could not draw any more information out of them. The words were uttered in Norwegian and Athelstan could not even tell where one word began and the other ended.

"Ragnar, hey", he whispered, reaching out a careful hand. There was no response. "It's okay, it's okay. You're safe here", Athelstan tried again and when Ragnar still did not respond, he dared to lay his hand on his back — a mistake.

With a start, Ragnar's body shot up. Blue eyes — almost glowing with their untethered expression — darted around the room and upon seeing Athelstan's shadow, Ragnar scrambled up and hid himself in a corner. He pulled his knees to his chest, hiding his face like a terrified child. 

For a moment, Athelstan could only stare, his heart shattering into a million tiny pieces. A sudden idea sparked in his head and quickly got to his feet and sprinted into the kitchen — Elsa followed close behind.

Frantically, Athelstan opened his freezer. His fingers hurt from the cold as he attempted to wrench an ice cube out of the tray. 

Once he finally had one in his hands, he sprinted back. Cold water ran over his hand as the ice cube started to melt in his hands and dripped to the floor. The soft patter of Elsa's paws followed him.

Ragnar had not moved from his corner, still curled into a tiny ball. Athelstan already regretted what he was about to do, certain that Ragnar's response would shatter his heart even more but there was no other way. Whatever nightmare he was trapped in was too strong to talk him out of.

Athelstan kneeled in front of Ragnar and took a deep breath to ready himself. He wrenched Ragnar's head away from his knees, certain that the words falling from his mouth were tiny pleas to leave him alone. Cold sweat ran over his face and tears leaked out of his eyes as Athelstan gently but firmly pressed his head against the wall so that he could not curl up again. 

His pleas turned into wordless, heart-wrenching whimpers as Athelstan forced his mouth open to put the ice cube on his tongue. He whispered soft apologies to Ragnar, trying to ease the guilt and pain tugging at his soul. In an instant, Ragnar's body went rigid, his whimpers and pleas fading completely as his nerves tried to process the new stimulus.

Athelstan sat back on his knees, hearing the frantic breaths become more even. Ragnar's eyes closed, the muscles in his jaw working steadily as he sucked on the ice cube. The tension left his body and he sank back into the wall, his legs sliding out to lie on the floor. After a deep breath, he opened his eyes again. His gaze lingered on Athelstan, finally recognising him.

"Welcome back, Ragnar", Athelstan whispered softly, trying not to startle him. The tired smile Ragnar gave him did not quite reach his eyes but it was a start.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it may sound a little unbelievable but that ice cube method deff works on me :D


	61. Chapter 61

"Thanks for getting me out of that", Ragnar mumbled once the ice cube in his mouth had dissolved. His head hung low, not looking at Athelstan as he nervously fiddled with the strings of his sweatpants.

"Of course, no worries", Athelstan replied softly. Ragnar gave off the impression of a boxer after an exhausting fight, a marathon runner after finishing his race. Sweaty, exhausted, glad that it was over and proud to have pulled through. "Does that happen often?", he asked. 

Athelstan could not bear the thought of Ragnar being forced to suffer through these episodes alone. No one to help him stay grounded, no one to ease him back into the world. Athelstan vowed to himself to offer his support as best as he could. He knew he could not just make those night terrors magically go away but he could guide Ragnar through and give him a foundation to hold onto.

"Yeah", Ragnar shrugged. "That's why I avoid sleeping", he said with a small chuckle as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "Today everything just kinda came together, y'know? Meeting my father again set me off, and I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep again."

Athelstan nodded. "Makes sense", he said, not sure what an appropriate response would be. "I don't mean to be insensitive but have you ever thought about getting professional help?", Athelstan asked carefully.

Ragnar laughed dryly. "Of course I have", he spat angrily. His resentment was not directed at Athelstan, he realised, when blue eyes flickered up at him with a mix of confusion and fear. 

"They refuse to give me a referral without me giving up my sons. I can't do that to my boys but without the referral I'd need to pay myself and I can't afford that", Ragnar explained with an exhausted sigh. He wiped his bandaged arm over his face, whether it was to wipe away sweat or tears Athelstan could not tell.

"My sister is a licensed therapist. I can try and ask her for advice", he offered. Ragnar did not verbally respond, he only nodded. Athelstan figured that it was an unpleasant topic. He would not push him to talk about it.

"You said, you won't go back to sleep", Athelstan said instead and once again he could see Ragnar nod in the darkness. "How about coffee and sunrise?", Athelstan asked with a gentle smile. Ragnar hummed quietly and Athelstan stood up and extended a hand to help him up. 

Ragnar was a little shaky on his feet as they walked through the hallway into the kitchen but, even though Athelstan was ready to catch him if he was to stumble, he managed to reach their destination without any trip ups. He hopped onto the counter, watching Athelstan as they waited for their water to boil.

"Why do you keep looking at me?", Athelstan asked shyly. He did not mind — in fact, he loved the attention — but he could not say what was so interesting about him. Ragnar grinned brightly.

"First of all, you're absolutely beautiful. Second, I like watching you do things. Dunno, you're just always so careful, it's really sweet. And third, I feel like I've known you my entire life and I want to know why", he said, his gaze not once leaving Athelstan. 

"You reckon we ever saw each other when your school-club was at church?", Athelstan asked, trying to remember if he had ever seen a boy with striking blue eyes in the church grounds as he poured the hot water over the coffee grounds in the filter papers over their cups. Ragnar made a thoughtful noise and they both watched the coffee drip into their mugs.

Once their drinks were finished, they walked out into the garden. Athelstan's parents had taken great care of it but when Athelstan had taken over the house, he had not found the time to maintain the cleanly state and his sister had her hands full with Lizzy (who's beautiful full name was Lisbeth). The grass was growing high and messily, wild flowers were in late bloom and birds had made their nests in trees. The small brick-path that led to the small shed was starting to overgrow with moss and the pond had given way to wildlife, while the petite garden furniture made out of metal started to lose their white colour, revealing the rust underneath. If he was being honest, he loved the disheveled state of his garden as the first sun rays shed their golden light onto the flora.

"I love your yard", Ragnar said quietly, his breath forming little clouds in the air but yet there were no goosebumps on his exposed skin as he sipped his coffee. Athelstan on the other hand was freezing in the morning cold. He gripped his coffee mug with both hands, the sleeves of his jumper pulled to the tips of his fingers. 

"Thank you", he spoke through clattering teeth. "It used to be a lot cleaner when my parents were still around but I just don't have the time and energy", Athelstan explained, his whole body shivering.

"Well, I like it messy", Ragnar shrugged with a smile. He glanced at Athelstan, breathing out a laugh before he laid an arm around Athelstan and pulled him close. 

"Cold?", he chuckled as Athelstan cuddled into his side, enjoying the warmth he provided.

"We can't all grow up beyond the polar circle", Athelstan huffed in fake offense. There was a tiny moment where Ragnar tensed up but it was so short that Athelstan did not dare to question it. If there was anything that Ragnar wanted to tell him, he would do it in his own time.

"Tell me about your parents", Ragnar said, staring into his coffee. 

“I’d love to”, Athelstan responded. He gently pushed Ragnar down on a wooden bench so that they could sit and watch the sunrise. The carpenter immediately crossed his longs on top of the wood and pulled Athelstan into his side again as he sat beside him. 

Athelstan let out a content sigh before he started to talk. 

“My parents were the loveliest people. Sure, they were die-hard Christians but they were still open for new people and mentalities. My sister, Magdalena, and I grew up very overprotected. No violence in movies, no drugs, no alcohol, no explicit songs. We did community services in the church all week, went to a catholic highschool. Our parents showed us the world and we did everything together. They supported me and my sister going to Uni and when Lizzy was born we were the happiest people on earth”, he reminisced about his past. Next to him, Ragnar seemed to relax with every word as the sun rose higher into the sky. 

And so he continued talking about their travels to foreign countries, the all boys school he had attended and then, when it finally was time to talk about their passing, Athelstan started to choke up. Ragnar just pulled him closer and laid his head on Athelstan’s, encouraging him to talk about happier days. Athelstan followed his advice, talking until the sun had fully risen into the sky and Ragnar had silently listened. 

An excited clamour of voices rose from inside the house to disturb their peace and instantly, a golden floof of fur zoomed past them, rolling in the dewy grass. Ragnar’s sons ran after the dog, Ivar on Bjorn’s back giggling and laughing freely. 

“Good morning, you rascals!”, Ragnar laughed at them with a bright smile. Athelstan had half expected him to wriggle out of the hug but he stayed, watching as his sons turned around to face him, their eyes going wide. 

“Is Athelstan part of the pack now?”, Hvitserk asked curiously, his head cocked to the side just like his father always did. 

“I don’t know”, Ragnar responded, adjusting himself so that he could look at Athelstan. “What do you say? Are you part of the pack?”, he asked. 

Athelstan looked back and forth between Ragnar and his sons, the family staring at him with sparkling eyes and grins on their faces.

“I’d love to”, he finally answered. 

A choir of triumphant howls erupted from Ragnar and his sons and for the first time in a while, Athelstan’s house felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aye, i got another prompt for a more or less political one shot set in my home-country because i am 100% convinced that ragnar would be a leftist/communist and he'd definitely fight a cop.


	62. Chapter 62

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things move forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> panoramic presentation anyone?  
> ....this chapter is almost exclusively written in the past progressive lol

Two months had passed and things were wonderful. Athelstan and Ragnar had fallen into a routine of staying at each other’s place for a few days before switching. Small traces of the other were now to be found at their respective houses, although in Ragnar’s case, the small traces were actually big changes. The provisory mattresses for his sons in Athelstan’s guest room had turned into a permanent thing and each of the Lothbroks had several sets of clothes in Athelstan’s house and somehow, Ragnar had managed to turn the home into a sanctuary for plants, keeping the messy garden in an organised state of chaos. In turn, Ragnar’s home was now littered with fur and kibbles from dog and cat food and Athelstan had left his own clothes throughout the house. 

Athelstan had gone back to teaching, taking the boys to school with him each morning and he had finally taken up some community work in the church again. After a month, Ragnar had finally been able to mostly return back to his normal work after having been confined to planning, design and customer service although he did not work full time yet. Nerves in his wrist had been damaged by being tied up for so long and his hands would cramp up, go numb or twitch involuntarily and Ragnar had feared that Luke would lay him off for working slower than before but the man had just smiled and instructed him to be extra careful. The bruises had begun to heal on Ragnar’s body and the doctors had given their okay to start again with moderate exercise. So, whenever the children went to their therapy sessions, Ragnar and Athelstan spent their time in Rollo’s gym. To not overwhelm Ragnar, he always trained with Athelstan or Floki or became an additional trainer for the children’s class. 

Ragnar had also managed to go into therapy thanks to Magdalena. She had called several officials in a ferocious anger that only an empath in healthcare could muster and so, Ragnar had finally been allowed to get professional help and keep his little family together. Therapy was hard on him, Athelstan had noticed. The carpenter would always return quiet and jumpy, often zoning in and out and usually, his night terrors seemed to be the worst on those days. It made sense though, he was working through years of childhood issues, things he might have not even realised were wrong and in the big picture, Ragnar always assured Athelstan that things were getting better. 

A month into their not-quite-yet-defined-relationship they had agreed to put the label  _ partner _ on their relationship. Finally, they had something to define themselves with while also keeping a pleasant lack of rules and a certain ambiguity when talking about each other to different people. Ragnar had given Athelstan the pet name of  _ little priest _ and just to bug him, Athelstan had resorted to referring to Ragnar as  _ puppy _ . (If Ragnar was being honest, he loved it. The endearing term took the venom out of his nightmares when Dan and Marsh swarmed through his head, calling him a rabid cur and talking about pulling his teeth out like a vicious dog.) 

Eventually, they had confessed to Rollo and Floki and the two had been more than supportive. Athelstan had been ready for the  _ Hurt him and we will kill you _ conversations and while these words had been implied, they were never directly spoken, seeing as Ragnar would be perfectly capable of that himself (even though Athelstan was convinced that Ragnar was too good a soul for that). 

Shortly after, Athelstan had formally introduced Judith and Ragnar to each other. After Judith had warned Ragnar that she would shamelessly cook and eat his organs if he was to ever cheat on Athelstan, they had steered the conversation to the recent events. Judith had explained to them how Aethelwulf had pulled every possible string there was to keep the situation under lock and key, responsible for cleaning the dead bodies out of Ragnar’s home and at one point, while they had stayed at Athelstan’s house, replacing the door so that it would lock again. Ragnar had asked Judith to gather him some information about what he had gotten into as a child and then, immediately after, the two had bonded over consuming too much caffeine and awful fathers. 

During their two months together, Athelstan had learned that Ragnar’s love language was physical touch. In the sense that Ragnar provided the affection. Athelstan loved it and had given his on-going consent to the small touches. It was a hand grazing his neck, a kiss on his forehead (which their small height difference was truly perfect for) or Ragnar’s fingers combing through his hair. 

Ragnar’s boundaries were a bit harder to set as he himself was not aware of them. But that was okay. They would just discover them as they went. Sometimes, Athelstan would say something and then Ragnar would look at him, swallow thickly and ask him to please not say this any more. They had also established that Ragnar needed to be warned of any physical contact. It was something they had learned the hard way. 

Ragnar, as usual, had been up early, making coffee and tea for his small family. Athelstan who had just woken up had craved the warmth Ragnar’s body provided and had silently gone up behind him to hug him. 

In an instant and instinctive reaction, Ragnar had spun around and pushed Athelstan away, a fist raised to defend himself against unknown attackers. This absolute terrified and wild expression in his eyes still haunted Athelstan’s dreams but luckily, before anything worse had happened, Ragnar had recognised Athelstan for who he was and had backed off instantly. They both had apologised profusely to each other and Ragnar could not forgive himself for almost hurting Athelstan, although Athelstan himself had not been scared for even a second. There was this absolute certainness in his heart that Ragnar would never hurt him, after all Athelstan had made his fair share of experiences with malicious partners. 

It had been one of Ragnar’s first boundaries they had discovered. After that, they had established that Athelstan would make himself known before he touched Ragnar and Ragnar would give some sort of verbal or non-verbal recognition. It was working perfectly for them.

Even though they had not seen Ragnar’s father in those two months, Ragnar still suffered through his night terrors and nightmares for a majority of time. As of late though, he managed to fall back asleep some nights and on the very odd occasion he managed a full night of sleep. Athelstan was more than glad that he was now there to guide Ragnar through those nights. He knew that this would not just magically go away, that was not how it worked but he would stay by Ragnar  _ through _ the struggle and provide a solid framework, a solid foundation for Ragnar to build his new life on. The carpenter had admitted how scared he was to enter this new episode, this new chapter of life full of better things because he had never had the chance to build a personality of his own without violence and hate from other people. Once again, Athelstan assured him to be there through it all and Ragnar had kissed his forehead and smiled.

Now, Athelstan unlocked the door after his quick trip to the grocery store. Ragnar had his back to him, fixing a plant on a high up shelf. The teacher kicked his shoes off and set the groceries down.

“Incoming!”, he called out to Ragnar, who gave a quiet hum in response. Athelstan wrapped his arms around Ragnar’s waist who in turn arched his back so that Athelstan could give him a quick kiss. 

“Hey”, he mumbled, less enthusiastic than usual as he carefully leaned against Athelstan’s chest.

“You okay, dear?”, he asked concerned. Ragnar turned around in his arms and laid his head against Athelstan’s shoulder. 

“My father called me”, he sighed and Athelstan blood ran cold.


	63. Chapter 63

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hvitserk has a little incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all had a wonderful start of the week :)

Athelstan swallowed thickly at Ragnar’s words. He gently pushed Ragnar away from him, holding him about an arm length away by his shoulder so that he could look him in the eyes but Ragnar hung his head low. Elsa let out an upset meow from behind the plant Ragnar had just busied himself with and Athelstan shushed her.

“Y- Your father called?”, Athelstan asked hesitantly, wanting to make sure that he had heard correctly. Ragnar nodded slowly.

“Yeah”, he mumbled, laying his hands onto Athelstan’s wrists. “It was a different number than usual — that’s why I picked up in the first place — and...fuck, Athelstan, he hates you!”, Ragnar almost yelled with desperation in his voice. He raised his head to look at Athelstan, tears swimming in his eyes as they lingered somewhere between tethered and untethered. 

“Okay, okay. We’ll figure this out. Nothing to worry about, puppy”, Athelstan said calmly. His hands moved from Ragnar’s shoulders to lay at the back of his neck, providing a comforting and warm weight there. (Ragnar had once admitted that it calmed him. He liked the feeling of Athelstan’s unmarred and soft skin.)

“What exactly did he tell you?”, Athelstan inquired. Ragnar went to turn his head away from Athelstan but the teacher gently pushed his thumbs into Ragnar’s cheek to keep his head still.

“Look at me please”, Athelstan all but pleaded. His parents had always told him that eyes were a window into another person’s souls and in Ragnar’s case that was more than true. His body language and his facial expression were always carefully controlled but his eyes often betrayed him. Athelstan would always ask Ragnar to look at him when they talked about important topics to know his true feelings — perhaps a subconscious way of getting him to express whatever was going on inside of him. 

Ragnar nodded ever so slightly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he looked at Athelstan.

“He hates you”, Ragnar repeated. “For making me happy. I don’t —”, his voice broke momentarily and he took another breath, his hands that were still on Athelstan’s wrist gripped a little tighter, before he continued, “I don’t deserve it”, he sighed. Athelstan wanted to object — of course Ragnar deserved to be happy — but he was not done talking yet. 

“He wants to hurt you. Or me. I don’t know, I was too stressed to listen. But he also wants what  _ they _ wanted. Heard there was money involved and now wants it, I suppose”, Ragnar concluded. As soon as he had finished talking, the muscles in his neck moved to let his head hang again. He bit his lip (that still was not healed from this awful habit) when Athelstan tried to hold against for just a second. 

“Sorry”, the teacher apologised and immediately gave up his control and Ragnar’s head dropped. “It’s scary, I know, but I promise you that we’re gonna figure this out. Together, okay?”, Athelstan asked.

Ragnar let out an airy laugh that sounded more desperate than amused. “Yeah”, he sniffed, blinking away what Athelstan thought were tears. “Yeah, we will.”

“Good”, Athelstan said with a soft smile. “Kiss?”, he asked sweetly. 

This time, Ragnar let out a real laugh, deliberately looking at Athelstan. “Yeah”, he grinned. The expression on his was still somewhat floating around reality, his mind most likely stuck somewhere in his childhood or a possible future. Still, Athelstan knew his smile to be a genuine one when Ragnar leaned down to kiss him. 

“Let’s make the boys some dinner, shall we?”, Athelstan asked. “Get your mind off things and we’ll put together a game plan tomorrow?”

“Sounds perfect”, Ragnar sighed. Athelstan was sure that the tension leaving Ragnar’s body must feel like heaven. His posture was not as stiff and ready to run any more, but rather relaxed, as if he felt safe where he was. 

Just as they had gone over to the groceries to put the food into its proper place, a loud yell came from outside, followed immediately by Atreyu barking. Ragnar’s sons started shouting over each other in the yard as if no one knew what to do.

“Dad!”, Bjorn yelled from the glass door just as Ragnar and Athelstan ran towards the commotion. “Hvitserk hurt himself really bad!”, the boy informed them.

“Fuck”, Ragnar whispered under his breath as Bjorn led him and Athelstan out to the garden. 

Atreyu was gently pushing his head against Hvitserk’s back, who sat on the floor surrounded by his terrified brothers. He was staring at his hand that was bleeding profusely from what seemed to be glass shards. Athelstan had seen a lot of blood in the months that he had known Ragnar but he had never seen that much blood on a child before and it made him sick. 

Sigurd was stroking his brother’s hair in a calming manner (a habit that he seemed to have picked up from his father, Athelstan supposed) and Ubbe held Hvitserk’s uninjured hand while Ivar was half hidden by a bush, seemingly searching for something. 

Ragnar knelt down in front of his son.

“What happened, kjære?”, he asked softly, carefully taking Hvitserk’s arm to look at his injured hand. 

“We don’t know!”, Ubbe exclaimed in distress. “We were playing and there was this noise and then he was screaming and — “, he rambled before Athelstan cut him off.

“That’s alright. You don’t need to be sure of what happened”, he said softly, hoping to calm the boy down. He was thoroughly impressed that Hvitserk was not crying. The glass shards were all over his left hand, the blood that was running down his arm was now covering Ragnar’s hands as well as he inspected the damage. 

“Okay, champ, I’ll take care of that”, he smiled at his son. Ragnar picked up the boy and cradled him to his chest, blood dripping onto his shirt. (Athelstan was not certain of the boy's weight and was torn between intervening to keep Ragnar from possibly going against doctor’s order or ripping the comforting presence of his father away from Hvitserk.) 

The small wounds were bleeding profusely, creating a small trail of blood as Ragnar carried his son into the bathroom. Athelstan and the other boys followed, worry contorting their faces even though Athelstan tried his best to keep them calm. 

Ragnar set Hvitserk down by the bathtub, quickly gathering all of the first aid supplies Athelstan had in his house and got to work while the others sat on the floor, watching the scene in silence. 

As Ragnar slowly pulled out the glass shards, letting the blood drip into the bathtub, he sang a soft song to keep Hvitserk calm. It was the melody he had sung when Athelstan and Ragnar had kissed for the first time and if Athelstan was being honest, the song probably helped to keep him calm more than it helped to keep the boy calm. 

Hvitserk breathed heavily as Ragnar cleaned the cuts. They seemed less threatening now that the glass was out. Still, Athelstan thought that Ragnar’s hands were a little too calm as he covered the individual cuts with small woundcovers so that the blood flow would be stopped and then wrapped a bandage around the boy’s hand. He could not help but to let his mind wonder how many times Ragnar had done this exact same thing to himself when he had been a child. It was a dark path to go down and Athelstan quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thought. The past could not be changed any more. It was what Ragnar always told him and now Athelstan needed to remind himself of that. 

“Feeling better?”, Ragnar whispered to Hvitserk. The boy nodded silently, leaning into his father’s chest for comfort as Ragnar pulled him into a gentle hug. His blue eyes wandered to Athelstan, shimmering with tears. 

“I’ll kill him, Athelstan, I’ll kill him”, he whispered, seemingly forgetting that his sons were listening. They still were in the dark about the true nature of their father’s upbringing. “Just because I let him hurt me, does not mean I will let him hurt my sons”, he muttered lowly, pulling Hvitserk a little closer to him. 

“Du er en død mann”, he said to no one in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation time !!
> 
> Du er en død mann - You are a dead man
> 
> also, fuck medical terms in English my dudes woundcover is deffo not a word but I can't find what I'm looking for

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Better Things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425542) by [Bjorn_Haraldson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bjorn_Haraldson/pseuds/Bjorn_Haraldson)




End file.
